


the mountain troll

by strangesmallbard



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, F/F, Friendship, Gen, Harry Potter References, Hecate and Julie Awkwardly Flirt and It Goes Somewhere, Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-15 00:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13601907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangesmallbard/pseuds/strangesmallbard
Summary: It's Year Three, and Mildred Hubble is determined not to get into (toomuch) trouble, and be the very best Witch she can be. However, trouble always seems to be afoot at Cackle's Academy, and this year brings incomprehensible theatre productions, Ethel, international Spelling Bees, and an especially evil warlock.It also brings an unexpected friendship between Miss Hardbroom and her Mum, which may change Mildred's world more than anything else.





	1. Parent's Night (Part 2)

**Author's Note:**

> hey! what's up, i haven't posted a fic since august and that's wild! two months ago i watched the worst witch and i haven't been able to stop thinking about hecate hardbroom ever since? and i'm from swan queen, so a fic about (eventual) two moms (one magical!) and their disaster kid was inevitable. i've been determined to write this pairing ever since julie hubble schooled hecate in the witch's code, like, can you believe the gumption. i'm amazed.
> 
> this fic was supposed to be a "mildred realizes her mom and teacher are in love" oneshot while i procrastinated on a longfic and instead is...already a few chapters long and consumed the plot from that longfic? sometimes it's like that! canon compliant up until the end of season 1, because i still haven't caught up with season 2. this has been an incredibly fun universe to write in. chapters will (hopefully) be released on tuesdays, and please do leave a comment if you're inclined!
> 
> MANY MANY THANKS to rayna, cass, bailey, lauren and everyone who helped me put this fic together and gave me encouragement while i was crying about sentence structure.

“Everyone wants magic to exist, Tiffany thought to herself, and what can you say? No there isn’t? Or: Yes, there is, but it’s not what you think?Everyone wants to believe that we can change the world by snapping our fingers.”

-Terry Pratchett, _I Shall Wear Midnight_

“There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.”

-J.K. Rowling, _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_

* * *

 

In Mildred’s defense...well, she doesn’t really have one. There've been times she does have a defense, a particularly good defense like _Ethel turned me into a frog_ and _spindleweed looks an awful lot like wheatgrass under a certain light_ , but today she doesn’t have any of those. Today, she managed to drop all of her test notes into an abandoned levitation potion, her test is tomorrow, and an inspector from some witching education board she doesn't know the name of is going to be inspecting Parent’s Day of all days and Mildred just didn't want the usual reports that she's disaster prone or isn’t trying hard enough or wouldn’t be so terrible at flying if she just watched where she was going, didn't want her poor, wonderful mum to sit there and try to comprehend all the messes Mildred has gotten into this quarter, and now–

Well. Maybe she should have gone with Maud’s idea of _just tell Miss Hardbroom!_ instead of Enid’s _just sneak in after classes and grab it from the cauldron!_ This time, Enid’s idea sounded like the one with less Saturday Detention, and that would have been true if Miss Hardbroom hadn’t walked in while Mildred was still fetching the notes.

She stops at the front of the room, blinks, and stares at Mildred with all too familiar raised brows. “Mildred Hubble, are you truly attempting to practice a potion, alone and unsupervised?”

Mildred blinks back, and with a sheepish grimace, slowly lifts her drowned notebook out of the cauldron in lieu of an explanation. Without warning, it flies out of her hand, up and away into the arches keeping the castle roof over their heads. It hovers there for a few moments as if deciding what to do next, and then barrels downward again–right at Miss Hardbroom.

“Miss Hardbroom! Look–”

Before she can blink, Miss Hardbroom transfers ten feet to the left and whirls around to face the offending notebook, but it crashes directly into the door and falls to the floor with a loud, wet _thwack_. She snaps her fingers and it reappears in her hand, still completely covered in levitation potion. It attempts to leap out of Miss Hardbroom’s hand, but she waves her other and the notebook is good as new. Er, looks the same as before she dropped it and ruined her day.

She looks back at Mildred with another familiar look: disappointment mixed with just a hint of frustration. She transfers to a few feet in front of Mildred, hand still holding the notebook out, and Mildred takes it with another sheepish grimace. 

“Sorry, Miss Hardbroom,” she says, quietly, trying not to let her shoulders droop. This kind of mess up is reserved for Year One Mildred, not the super-responsible-with-magic-well-except for-when-it-sometimes-gets-out-of-hand Year Three Mildred.

She waits for the inevitable reprimand and punishment, spoken in dark, low tones and making Mildred feel like she’d rather be a frog in Cackle's pond forever. Instead, Miss Hardbroom gives a sharp sigh and seems to stand up straighter, if that’s even possible. Her face goes through a series of unidentifiable expressions before it settles into something like exhaustion, which doesn’t make Mildred feel much better. She quickly shakes her head. “I suppose the lab is...intact. You may go, Mildred. I suspect you have studying to do, or you wouldn’t have forgotten the effects of a potent levitation potion.”

She stares at Mildred pointedly, but the disapproval is, strangely, almost gone from her face. Mildred gives a hesitant smile and nods. “Thanks, Miss Hardbroom. I...um, I’ll be going now.”

Miss Hardbroom’s lips twitch, and she nods, stepping back to let Mildred pass through the aisle. 

Mildred huddles the notebook to her chest and furrows her brow. It still feels like there’s a tight knot of frustration in her stomach, and she’s not sure how to dispel it. All she ever wanted was for HB to be...proud of her, maybe. Or if not proud, then to trust her with magic. Maybe that even more than proud. She understands the weight of magic much more clearly now than in Year One and thinks HB might understand her more now too if her lack of Saturday Detention is anything to sneeze about. But it’s like they’re forever at this impasse, and Mildred still doesn’t know how to take a step beyond it. Be the Witch she yearns to be. Miss Cackle is incredibly impressed with her progress, said as much after her Second Year final exams, but the worry that she’ll never match her peers still settles heavy in her bones.

Hand on the door handle, she pauses. “Miss Hardbroom?”

“Yes?” 

She turns around, and HB is cleaning the cauldrons with waves of her hand. “I...know the right spell.” She swallows. “For countering a levitation potion.”

Miss Hardbroom tilts her head, slowly. “I would hope so, since you learned it last term.”

Mildred clears her throat. “I was going to say it first, before I lifted my notes out of the cauldron, I mean. I just...I know it,” she says, emphatic.

Miss Hardbroom’s forehead creases and her lips upturn in an almost-smile, but maybe that’s a grimace. She shakes her head again, and waves away another potion. “I believe you, Mildred. Go. Your notes haven’t been rescued for you to ignore them and fail your exam.”

Mildred wants to say something else, but HB turns around to take care of the back row of cauldrons, and she doesn’t really know what to say anyway. A part of her still can’t believe she’s walking out with no punishments, but she’s worried that asking why would only remind HB of the possibility, and she and Enid and Maud have plans to go to the cinema this weekend. She’s been dying to take them since Maud has never been, and a new Star Wars film is out, and it’s all cleared with Miss Cackle, and–

She clicks the door shut behind her, all uncertain thoughts temporarily banished.

 

* * *

 

The Inspector’s name is...Mildred’s forgotten, but she’s certain her first name is _Xenia_ . Or _Andrea._ She reminds Mildred of Agatha. Or well, when Agatha was pretending to be Miss Cackle and couldn’t quite keep the darkness out of her voice. However, nobody would really agree with her because Inspector Xenia-or-Andrea is wearing bright purple robes, and speaks in soft, nice tones to all the students in the Great Hall. 

All the students except for Mildred. Who she fixes with a frigid glare the moment she sets eyes on her. She thinks she’s completely imagining it until she laughs at a joke the Inspector makes–is the only one to laugh–and she glares at Mildred, only Mildred, once again. The laugh dies in her throat, and Maud looks between them with her brows drawn together like she does when revising for exams. 

“Did you set her broomstick on fire or something, Millie?” Enid whispers. She leans back in her chair, which means she has absolutely given up on anything said during assembly.

Mildred’s eyes widen. “What? No! At least, I don’t think so.” She wracks her brain for any reason why the Inspector would dislike her and can’t come up with a thing.

“Mildred Hubble, is it?” says a very soft, nice voice.

Oh no. 

“Um,” she says. Why does she have to sit in the third row! “Yes? Well met,” she says and bows with a hand slapped to her forehead.

She hears a snicker and just knows it's Ethel.

The Inspector gives a smile she knows is real as a magic-born mouse. “Is there some reason why you are interrupting what I _promised_ you lovely students would be a very short and un-boring speech?” 

“ _Un-boring_ isn’t a word,” Maud mutters, and Enid elbows her. 

Mildred gulps. “Sorry,” she offers, wishing she could defend herself.

She glances over at the teachers, and Miss Hardbroom is giving the Inspector a very curious stare. Her chin is raised, which means she’s not pleased, but there’s no disapproval on her face either, an expression Mildred would know all too well.

The Inspector’s face pinches up like she’s smelled something terrible, and she makes a sound that almost sounds like a giggled _hmm hmm._ “I’ll see all of you talented young _Witches_ ,” and here she looks again at Mildred, almost pointedly, “in class! I also look forward to meeting your parents as well. It’s always wonderful to see the Witching World flourish, no matter the pressures from the world outside our bubble!” 

All at once, Mildred understands. Her ears burn and her face burns, and all she can do is let her shoulders and head droop and make herself as small as possible. Anger floods her stomach, but she knows she can’t say a thing right now or she’ll just embarrass the whole school, and she also can’t look up because Ethel might have understood and if she did, she’ll look _smug_ , and these days most of Ethel’s barbs just fly over her head, but right now she knows she’ll just start crying and embarrass herself.

“What the bats?” Enid whispers, leaned forward again. Mildred doesn’t dare respond. “Does she have something against the internet? Even _Cackle's_ has a site now.”

Maud’s eyebrows furrow again. “You know just as well as I do that plenty of Witches and Wizards don’t see the point in ordinary technology.”

Enid grins at Mildred. “Well, no Witchcraft in the world could beat Millie at DDR. Even just explaining it would probably make her head explode.”

Mildred tries to smile, but it comes out wobbly and forced. Enid frowns at her, but the Inspector looks in their direction again with a withering glare, and Maud elbows Enid. She thinks looking at the Inspector for one more moment will make her really burst into tears, so she glances over at the windows, past the castle walls into the forest beyond the mountain. The swaying trees always comfort her, even when she can’t quite control her broomstick during lessons. Maybe she’ll draw them again later.

But the teachers are standing in front of the window, and Mildred realizes that HB’s eyes look angry. It’s oddly jarring because Mildred has only seen her look truly angry a handful of times before, and only at Mildred during a few of those times she was almost expelled in Year One. She almost whispers something to Maud about it, but then Miss Cackle taps HB on the shoulder, and the expression vanishes.

The Inspector finishes off her speech, and her classmates start to get up, talking all around her in an annoying cacophony of voices. Mildred feels rooted down, and really is in no mood for history with Miss Bat, and even less of a mood to be observed by the Inspector. 

She looks over at the window again, but all the teachers have gone.

Enid tugs on her arm. “Well, today’s going to suck, but at least she’s no Agatha. Or _Umbridge.”_ She mock shivers. “Though, I do wish Cackle's had a Room of Requirement. That would so come in handy.” 

Mildred jumps up in one big move to jolt the anger out of her stomach. It doesn’t budge, but it does quiet down when she catches up with the conversation. “You never know. Remember when they found a whole wing of the dungeons they thought the Mists of Time destroyed like twenty years ago? There could be a Room of Requirement just under our noses.”

Maud rolls her eyes, and starts to push them through the row of chairs. “We’re not thinking about Harry Potter anymore, or you two will come up with _ideas.”_

Enid wraps an arm around Maud’s shoulders. “And you’ll finish those ideas, Maud Spellbody, so don’t even start.”

Mildred smiles at her friends and decides that one purple Inspector isn’t going to ruin her day.

 

* * *

 

Seeing her mum almost makes her cry again, and she’s not sure why.

The day with the Inspector wasn’t absolutely terrible; she hadn’t pointed out any of the times Mildred messed up in class, and there weren’t many of those in the first place! She’d gotten the date of the Great Faerie Rebellion wrong, but it was an easy mistake anyone could make, and she was never really good about memorizing dates. Her Laughter Potion was a little too green, but even HB didn’t have very much to say about that because Felicity’s potion turned red and they’d had to briefly evacuate the classroom. She was chided by Algernon for drawing in class, but very warmly–he knew drawing actually helped her focus and usually allowed for it, but he didn’t want her to miss something vital for Finals Exams.

All the while the Inspector watched, made notes, and did little else. She didn’t even look at Mildred. The only student she directly commented on was Ethel Hallow, and it was just to say she knew her mother well, which never serves to put a happy smile on Ethel’s face. She scowled the moment the Inspector looked away. 

Still, she throws her arms around her mother and nearly cries into her shoulder like she’s still very, very little and the world is very, very big and frightening. 

“You okay, Millie-love?” her mum says, and she takes a deep breath.

“Alright! We just had this Inspector come today and…” She frowns. “Never mind, it’s not all that important, really.”

Mum tilts her head and brushes Mildred’s long braid over her shoulder. She’s wearing one of her Mum Shirts, a pink professional looking button down–weird because dislikes pink–and one of her favorite weird colorful shawls, and it’s her _mum_ and everything’s okay. “Alright, just let me know. Who do we have first?”

Mildred takes out her maglet and scrolls to her Parents’ Night itinerary. “HB, I think.”

Mum rolls her eyes and re-wraps her shawl around her shoulders. “Right! Of course. They couldn’t have start us off with a fun one, now could they?” She winks at Mildred, who laughs and starts in the direction of the Potions classroom.

“She’s not so…” Mildred can’t find the word. “I think she knows I’m trying now, at least.”

“You _are_ trying, sweetheart. I saw the way you poured over those books this summer.” She sighs, and rolls down her sleeves. “If Miss Hardbroom can’t see that, then she’s not worth your agonizing.”

Mildred frowns, thinking of the Inspector again, thinking of how HB said _I believe you, Mildred_ and didn’t give her detention, thinks of the way her ears burned when the Inspector said what she said, and weirdly, thinks of the Great Faerie Rebellion, how she’d been able to recite the story from heart, even if she got the dates wrong.

 

* * *

 

The Inspector is there. 

“Mildred still... _draws_ pictures in class as well, despite my warnings of what would happen if she persisted.” Miss Hardbroom looks up from her notes and raises a brow at her. “Revising from Maud Spellbody’s notes does not make for a successful exam.” 

Mum sighs sharply next to her, and readjusts her shawl. “Really, Miss Hardbroom. The _drawing_ again? You know, all that says to me is that Millie has been doing just fine.”

Miss Hardbroom taps her fingers on her notes. “Just...fine? Did you miss the part where I outlined how Mildred nearly destroyed the Potions Lab in early September–” 

“Nearly being the key word,” Mum says, finger raised.

Miss Hardbroom takes a deep breath, and glares at her mum full force. She doesn’t know why they have it out for each other...well, she _does_ , as long as Mildred keeps causing disasters and doesn’t pay attention in class and HB makes comments about it during Parent’s Night conferences, but sometimes it feels like they argue too much, and with the added weight of the Inspector behind them, she just wishes they’d stop.

“Or how she turned her classmate into a…” Miss Hardbroom looks beyond them. Perhaps towards the Inspector. She clears her throat. “We don’t need to re-outline the incidents, but the _art_ must stop. I understand it’s a…” she suddenly looks like she’s swallowing something spicy,“...hobby, but it has no business in a classroom, where Mildred is learning the Craft.” She looks at Mildred now. “And I believe she _is_...learning.”

Mildred can’t stop herself from smiling at the near praise. Miss Hardbroom’s lips twitch up, but she quickly shifts her attention back to Mum. “So you see, Ms. Hubble–”

“Mildred, what are you drawing in class, love?” 

She blinks at the question, and tugs on her braid as she thinks. “Um...well, Tabby sometimes.” There’s a quiet _Hmm_ from behind her, and her face burns again. “The trees outside. People, if I’m in the mood for faces. And...well, the potions. Sometimes I remember better that way, if they’re drawn out too.”

Mum smiles at her, and looks back at Miss Hardbroom with a sharp stare. “That’s what I don’t get about you, _HB_ , you say Mildred is learning and refuse to comprehend the ways she learns.”

Miss Hardbroom places her palms flat on the desk, over her abandoned notes, face settling into familiar disapproval. “Miss Hubble, that–”

“Oh, Miss Hardbroom, I _simply_ cannot believe you’ve allowed this farce to carry on so far. I’ve read all your papers, and was looking forward to meeting the Hardbroom responsible for such formidable work, but allowing this to _continue?_ ” 

 _Farce_ rings in Mildred’s mind and she looks down, feels that anger again, still in her stomach. But she also feels a wave of shame at the back of her neck, and it burns her cheeks again, makes her magic sparky at the fingertips, like it only does when she feels something too much. She’s still the worst witch in the academy, and apparently _others_ know too. They _talk_ about her. They’re _embarrassed_ by her, and she never should have even tried–

She feels Mum’s hand take her own, hold her fingers tightly. “Hey! Who the _hell_ –”

“Inspector Berrystalk, is there some particular reason why you are intruding on my conference with a student and her parent?” Miss Hardbroom looks angry again, like she did in the Great Hall, and her fingers drum harshly against the table.

Inspector _Berrystalk_ stands up and places two purple gloved hands on her hips. “Honestly, she’s a Third Year now! When I heard about it on the Board, I couldn’t believe it. Pentangles is a lost cause, of course, being so new and full of silly ideas, but here? At _Cackle's?”_

Mildred wants to say something, anything, be as brave as the day she and the whole school stood up to Agatha and Miss Gullet, but all of her words catch in her throat and tears well up in her eyes before she can stop them. Mum’s hand tenses in her own, and she knows what’s coming next–shouting and arguing and Mildred just wants to hug Tabby and go to bed. Study more for her exam tomorrow.

“Lady, you have no right to come in here and–”

“And you! No magic to speak of, thinking you can question a _respectable_ Witch’s opinion.” Inspector Berrystalk curls her lips, and Mildred watches Mum’s face flush with anger or maybe even embarrassment, and that makes Mildred feel worse than ever. 

“I see Hecate Hardbroom has gone soft in the last few years, but I will not stand–”

“That is _quite_ enough, Inspector.” Miss Hardbroom stands up with a stronger glare than anything she’s ever tossed Mum’s way. “Hubbles, would you step into the classroom whilst I have a word with Inspector Berrystalk? We will resume the conference then.” 

A bolt of fear runs through Mildred, and she looks at Mum for reassurance that she won’t be able to give her. What does HB want to say to the Inspector that she doesn’t want Mildred to hear? Does she...does she _agree_ with her? No, no that can’t be it. Can it? HB believed her when she said she knew the Anti Levitation Spell. Right? She bolts up from her chair, and nods at HB, hoping none of the fear is clear on her face.

Mum is still sitting, eyes fixed on the Inspector like she’s a particularly stubborn housefly. “I’m sure whatever you will say can be said right now, in front of us.”

Miss Hardbroom clears her throat. “We only need to discuss proper Witching etiquette, Miss Hubble. It should not take very long.” 

The Inspector goes red with anger, and Mildred has no idea why. She tugs on Mum’s hand, and she stands up, slowly. She opens her mouth to say something but can’t find the right words, not when the Inspector is glaring at all of them, not when the word _farce_ still rings in Mildred’s ear and she feels silly in her Cackle’s uniform, feels silly walking through these stone hallways and pretending to be the Witch she’s afraid she never truly will be. 

There’s a lurch, and Mildred and her Mum are standing in the middle of Potions classroom, dark and empty, the potions left by the Year Sevens the only bright colors left.

Mum presses her fingertips to her forehead. “I don’t think I’ll ever quite get used to that,” she whispers.

“Me neither,” Mildred whispers back. She tugs on her braid and all of the wanting to cry feeling bowls over her again, but she won’t let her face crumple. “She’s right, Mum,” she says, and her voice still wavers. “The day I almost blew up the Potions Lab was the first day of classes, and I...I brought new notebooks and I had the right amount of pencils and I _read_ the night before and I took careful, neat notes, and I had enough to eat for breakfast even though my stomach always hurts in the morning, and I still...almost blew up the Potions Lab.” She hangs her head.

There’s a burst of extremely muffled sound from behind the door.

 _“Inspector–”_  

_“...She’s going to destroy the...”_

“Hey, hey!” Mum says, and gently places hands on her shoulders before she can look at the door and try to figure out what the Inspector is saying about her this time. “Sweetheart, I wish I had some Witchy anecdote that’ll make this all better, but you’re trying so hard and you care so much, and if that… _Berrystalk,”_ she rolls her eyes, and swipes Mildred’s cheek with her thumb, “...or Miss Hardbroom don't understand, then, well, there’s always Penny Tangles, right?" 

Mildred giggles. “ _Pentangles.”_

Mum laughs with her and brushes away a tear that managed to leak out anyway. “You know–” 

 _“There have been disasters, but Mildred–”_  

Mildred freezes, and Mum furrows her brow at the door. “Strange that they…” Without warning, she crosses the ten feet to the door and presses her ear against it. 

Mildred’s eyes widen and she takes a few steps forward. “Mum?”

Mum raises a brow at her. “Remember, we Hubbles do not snoop, but I think this situation requires a bit of investigation. _Operation Mildred?”_

Mildred smiles, remembering her very, very long secret agent phase and how her ninth birthday involved Mum setting up an entire mission for her Year 5 class in the park. It was a reward for Mildred to stop snooping on their neighbors in order to _find evidence_. 

She nods. “ _Operation Mildred_ ...wait, no. _Operation Inspect the Inspector._ ” Mum nods back–her secret agent nod–and Mildred takes the last few steps and presses her ear against the door too. To her surprise, the voices are just as muffled as if she were still standing far away.

“A Muffling Spell!” Mildred whispers. “Drat. Of course. I don’t know if I can counteract it, but maybe I can weaken–” 

“Would that get you into trouble, Millie?” Mum whispers, face sympathetic.

Mildred deflates. “I’m sure HB would be able to sense it anyway. Witches can leave signatures on their magic, strong enough to sense if someone was altering–”

_“Mildred Hubble spent the first eleven years of her life without the knowledge that magic even exists, much less the intricacies of the Craft.”_

Though still muffled behind the door, Miss Hardbroom’s voice is eons clearer than anything they’d previously said. Mildred looks at Mum in worry, and her expression is mirrored. 

_“We all had reservations, Inspector Berrystalk, but I am reminded of Ada’s anecdote this morning about your own school years. An incident involving a toad...and a rabbit….in Year 2?”_

There’s an indignant noise, and Mildred would laugh but fear courses through her again, lurching her stomach more than any transferring spell, and she closes her eyes against what words she’s sure are coming.

_“Yes, but I quickly learned the weight of my magic and the responsibility I had to the Witching World. This Mildred Hubble won’t ever understand that responsibility, and how could she?”_

“If they want you to learn the Code, then they should _teach_ you the damn Code. This is a _school!_ ” Mum says, rolling her eyes.

_“As I was explaining this morning, there is a reason why Mildred is still a student at this Academy, and it is due not only to her perseverance in studying the Craft, despite certain...errors and missteps….but due to her great integrity and strength of conviction, which you seem to lack in spades.”_

She couldn’t have heard that right. There had to be some kind of spell–

 _“As for her Ordinary mother, Miss Hubble may not be a Witch, but she is as dedicated to her daughter’s education as any magical parent you encountered this evening.”_  

Mum stares at the door in pure shock, but Mildred just beams and beams and beams, can’t stop beaming if she even wants to, because Miss Hardbroom thinks she belongs at this school. It’s all she’s ever wanted to hear, and for a moment she almost thinks she imagined it, _had_ to have imagined it. There’s a bunch of sputtering from Inspector Berrystalk and she thinks about Enid saying she could beat her at DDR and all her terrible emotions drain away until she only feels warm. 

Miss Hardbroom thinks she belongs at this school. 

Miss Hardbroom thinks–!

Of course, the Inspector can’t let her have the final word. The sputtering stops and she schools her words back into the same mocking tone.

 _“Miss Hardbroom, I don’t know you could have been led so drastically astray, but she’s shown that magic in the very wrong hands produces nothing but chaos and destruction. Why, I vote to simply remove her powers and return her back to the ordinary world, but–”_  

“Oh that's _it_ ,” Mum says, full voice, face still full of shock, and without further ado, yanks the door open and charges inside. Mildred follows her back in, trying not to grin and failing terribly.

She walks right up to Inspector Berrystalk. “Oi, what is the matter with you? Don’t you want more witches in your world instead of less? With your spectacular attitude problem, you’d wonder if anyone was deemed _responsible_ enough to practice magic, much less a Year 3 who practiced her chanting in our flat every single day of summer vacation!”

“Miss Hubble!” Miss Hardbroom says, her shoulders reared back, face twisted in a look of anger, the same anger Mildred saw at the assembly, and she doesn’t think it’s directed towards Mum, not at all. She looks at Mildred, and then back at Mum, who glaring at Inspector Berrystalk and not at HB. She ever so slightly inclines her head.  “We weren’t. _Quite. Finished.”_

Inspector Berrystalk steps back and points at Mum, glare scathing. “No respect, none at all, Miss Hubble. Why, if I weren’t a Code-abiding Witch, I could simply turn–”

“Speaking of the Witch’s Code,” Miss Hardbroom says, carefully crosses her arms. “Section Seventeen of the Witch’s Code reads–”

“Witches are not permitted to use magic in Ordinary Shopping Malls? I dare see how–”

“Every Witch has both a right to an education of the Craft, and a duty to educate herself,” Mum says–Mildred can tell she’s proud to have remembered–and Inspector Berrystalk’s eyes widen, opening and closing her mouth like a fish dragged out of the ocean. 

Miss Hardbroom’s lips twitch up into the oddest smile, and at _Mum._ She nods once, sharply. “Tell the board whatever you will, Inspector Berrystalk, but know if you give that report or dare suggest that a Witch should lose her magic for a simple fact that is far from an offense warranting such punishment, know I will fight it every step of the way.” She lifts her chin, and uncrosses her arms, rests a hand on the back of her chair. “And I _will_ win,” she says.

 _Go HB!_ Mildred says in her mind. She feels like she’s floating high above in the stars where no words can harm her. No, she feels like she’s on her broomstick in the stars, soaring amongst them like a _Witch_.

“Maybe you should go interrupt other conferences,“ Mildred says, willing all her bravery. “After all, isn't it wonderful to see the Witching World flourish?”

Inspector Berrystalk shoots a stare at Miss Hardbroom, perhaps expecting her to scold Mildred for interrupting them, but Miss Hardbroom only crosses her arms again and says, “Perhaps this conversation...is over after all.”

Mum looks as Miss Hardbroom as though she’s never met her before and abruptly lets out a bark of a laugh. “Oh, you Witches are just too much.” She squeezes Mildred’s hand, and crosses her arms at Inspector Berrystalk. “You should go, however, before I decide to settle this the _ordinary_ way.” 

Miss Hardbroom definitely smiles a bit at that, which is the weirdest thing Mildred has ever seen in her life, because if there’s anything that makes Miss Hardbroom irritated, it’s the notion of doing things the _ordinary way._

“Goodbye, Inspector Berrystalk,” Miss Hardbroom says, and transfers her out with a brusque wave. After she fades away completely, HB takes a deep, steadying breath, and slowly lowers herself back onto the chair. She looks back at Mildred and Mum, both stunned now, and carefully takes out her second page of notes. “Now,” she says, more hesitant than Mildred has ever seen her before. “Let’s, perhaps…”

“Thank you, Miss Hardbroom,” Mildred says before she thinks about it. “I know some of it wasn’t really true, but–” 

She raises a hand. “I don’t say falsities, Mildred,” she says, too quiet to be harsh. “Now...let’s…” She clears her throat, and covers the notes. “I think that’s all for today, actually. Miss Hubble, you should know that Mildred’s test scores have been adequate, and with enough hours of revising instead of engaging in tomfoolery with Enid Nightshade, she may just be able to pass her exams in the Spring.” 

“I will,” Mildred says, quickly. “I promise I will.”

Mum is staring at Miss Hardbroom, confusion warring with curiosity, and Mildred isn’t surprised at all when she says, “Millie, love, could I have a few moments to speak with your teacher before we have to move on?” 

Mildred nods, and Miss Hardbroom looks at Mum with rather the same expression, before she nods too. Before she can do something silly, like thank Miss Hardbroom again or accidentally remind her of the Potions Lab incident, she ducks out of the room to find Maud and Enid and avoid the Inspector, if she’s still at Cackle's at all.

 

* * *

 

Although Mildred doesn’t quite understood the fame surrounding the Nightshades, she is certainly in awe of the impromptu light show right in the Great Hall, and they seem happy to see Mildred too after the applause dies down. The Spellbodys welcome her with hugs and say they hope she visits during the summer again, and she promises she will, arms wrapped around her two best friends in the world. 

Her mind leaves the Potions Lab and the Inspector and even Miss Hardbroom defending her of all things, until she sees the Hallows leave Miss Bat’s classroom and remembers she and Mum still need to finish their conferences.

As she opens the office door, she’s startled by Mum laughing, her real laugh that’s more like a cackle.

They’re both standing in front of the desk now, and Miss Hardbroom’s smiling too, small but equally real as Mum’s laugh. 

It’s way better than arguing, but doesn't make very much sense. Mum’s biggest grievance with HB has perhaps cleared up _(Miss Hardbroom thinks she belongs at Cackle’s!_ ), but that doesn’t add up to smiling or the laughing.

“Millie!” Her mum says, and comes over to her side. She holds up a large, strange looking leather-bound book that she definitely didn’t bring with her, and points it towards HB. “Thanks for the _light reading_ , Miss Hardbroom.” 

Mildred giggles at that, sure it’s a reference, and Mum winks.

Miss Hardbroom frowns, and straightens her shoulders. “It certainly won’t be light, Miss Hubble, but I hope it is...illuminating.”

Mum rolls her eyes. “I read medical journals in my off hours, I think I can handle a few pictures of plants.”

Miss Hardbroom bristles, and it’s almost all back to normal. “This is a herbology text no student sees until University.”

Mum tucks the book under her arm. “ _Fancy_ plants, then. Thank you for speaking with me, Miss Hardbroom, and…” she squeezes Mildred's hand. “Thank you, again.”

HB’s lips purse like she’s trying not to smile again, and her forehead creases. She opens her mouth to say something and then closes it with a quick shake of her head, quick enough that Mildred isn’t sure she did at all. She straightens up the notes on her desk without looking at them. “You should be proud, Mildred,” she says, and puts the notes back down neatly on her desk, “of the work you’ve accomplished. Keep it up.” She sighs, heavily. “Perhaps without...compromising the infrastructure of the school.” 

Mum rolls her eyes, but not quite as exasperatedly as other Parent Nights.

Mildred doesn’t quite know what to say without going on and on about how much a true compliment from HB means to her, how she's still flying amongst the stars and feels as though she could land safely on her feet in perfect landing formation, so she just beams again and says, “I won’t! Or,” she cringes. “Not intentionally, anyway.” 

HB lifts a hand and looks like she’s going to say something else, but then glances at Mum. “I certainly don’t doubt it will be unintentional.”

Mum tugs Mildred’s hand. “C’mon, love, we’ve kept your teacher long enough.”

Mildred waves, still beaming. “Goodbye, Miss Hardbroom! See you in class!”

She shakes her head, and starts to sit back down at her desk. “Don’t be late for your next conference, Hubbles.”

Mum rolls her eyes again and gives another very odd smile. “ _Goodbye_ , Miss Hardbroom.”

As they walk to Miss Bat’s classroom, Mildred looks at Mum’s new textbook and thinks about how she really does need to study tonight.


	2. Nice or Kind

A month later, Ethel technically causes the next Incident.

They're both assigned a Snow Fall Potion in rotating doubles week and Mildred decided to _argue_ with Ethel Hallow about proper ingredient proportions. The thing is, she was right. It _was_ half a newt’s eye, not a quarter, and HB _agreed,_ but Ethel hated being wrong in the face of the worst witch in the school, and that’s how their entire potion ended up flying out the window.

“Ah,” Mum says, across the city in the mirror. “Well, did anyone get hurt?”

“The window?” Mildred says, wrapping her arms around herself. “But I fixed it with Ethel during detention. Ugh, mum, I really...I know it’s bad to hate people.”

“Uh-huh,” Mum says, kindly.

Mildred props her elbows on the table, resting her head in her hands. “No, I don’t hate her. I just don’t get it, that’s all. Her mum...ignores her, I think? Which is really sad, but doesn’t have anything to do with me.” She frowns, trying to get the tendrils of thought to stick together into just one. “Does it?”

Mum furrows a concerned brow, and adjusts something on her desk just out of Mildred’s view. “No, sweetheart. Ethel’s a bully, and one day she might not be, but right now you don’t have to worry about the reasons why. You just have to take care of yourself.” She smiles and reaches for Mildred before she remembers that she’s only in the mirror.

Mildred smiles back, and tears prick her eyes. “Thanks, Mum,” she mumbles. “I’ve tried, you know. I’m _nice_ to her. Most days.” She lets her arms go and makes a frustrated noise.

“I’m very sure you are,” Mum says.

Mildred frowns. “You’re going to say _You don’t have to be nice to her, Mildred_ , aren’t you? Maud told me the same thing.”

“That Maud Spellbody. She has some good ideas. But no, I…” she taps her chin. “Being nice and being kind are two separate things, and they look very alike. Do you follow me?”

“I think so,” Mildred says, and scrunches her robe in her lap. “Nice is like...saying _Please and Thank you_ , and kind is...telling someone you love them?”

“Those are examples, yes.” Mum sighs, almost in a grumble. “Unfortunately, there are plenty of people in this world who are nice and not kind, and still unfortunately, all of us have to be nice without being kind once in a while.”  
  
“Now you’re not making sense, Mum.”

Mum taps the mirror. “You know, I think I’m actually saying that I almost agree with Maud. The next time she goads, tell Miss Hardbroom or Miss Cackle exactly what's going on.”

Mildred blinks. “Be a tattler?” 

“Absolutely. Maybe feeling the consequences of her meanness will help her grow up. Make her want to be a little kinder.”

Mildred quirks up a grin. “She was really mad when Miss Hardbroom gave her the same punishment as me. Well,” her ears burn. “I _did_  push the cauldron all the way through the window–”

“Oh, Millie,” Mum says, still smiling.

There’s a bang on the door and ironically, it’s Ethel who shouts, “Mildred! Some of us actually _do_ their homework after class and _don’t_ want to hang around the mirrors all the day!”

She rolls her eyes. “But! Miss Hardbroom said, _if I recall, this argument would not have escalated as far as it did if you, Ethel Hallow, had simply looked into your textbook and acquiesced gracefully to your error.”_ She laughs, warm with knowing she studied _and_ was right. “Then, she said something about the Craft and what it means to be a Witch, but everyone was giggling, and not at me.” Her laugh quickly turns into a frown. “Oh no, that was a little mean, wasn’t it?”

“This probably isn’t the proper mum thing to say, but I think she earned that one.” Mum tilts her head. “You know, I’m surprised Miss Hardbroom didn’t say anything about all this when we spoke earlier.” 

Mildred’s eyebrows shoot for the skies. “You spoke with _Miss Hardbroom_ earlier?”

Mum blinks and seems startled, like she said something she didn’t mean to. She brings the book she had been adjusting in full view of the mirror, revealing it to be the large textbook HB had leant her during Parent’s Night. “We’ve been, er, talking,” she says, strangely sheepish. “Corresponding, I should say, more than talking. After the conference, I happened to mention that I found Potions very interesting since chemistry was my favorite part of nursing school. You remember that?”

“Yeah,” Mildred says, absolutely flummoxed. 

Mum opens the book, and closes it again. “And well, I ended up asking about medicine in the magical world and we debated a bit about the,” she waves her hands, “virtues of magical medicine versus ordinary medicine and she mentioned that medicinal herbology was a hobby of hers, and I said that sounded a lot like…” she clears her throat, “Anyway, it led to me reading an awful lot about these fancy plants and I gave her the links to some medical journals and…”

“Now...you’re corresponding?”

Mum nods.

Mildred thinks about Mum laughing and HB smiling when she came back to the Lab on Potions Night. “Does HB even know how to use the Internet? There’s an _ancient_ computer in the library, but only me and Enid use it. I think. For uh,” she winces. “Educational stuff, you know.” For a brief, startling moment, Mildred imagines HB playing Neopets on a Saturday morning. 

Mum moves the book back, and raises a brow. “As long as your _educational stuff_ is on the weekends–” 

“Yep!” Mildred says quickly.

“Mildred Hubble, I _will_ get Miss Cackle down here!”

“Good luck with that!” Mildred calls back, as cheerful as can be. “That’s cool, Mum.”

Mum furrows her brow. “Are you sure?”

“I mean,” Mildred furrows her brow. “It’s only weird because you didn’t like each other for so long. And now you’re talking about plants.”

Mum rolls her eyes. “Her Wicked Witch of the West routine still drives me batty, it’s more...about understanding. Does that make sense?” 

Mildred tugs on her braid. She knew something changed in her mum’s opinion of HB after Parent’s Night, but only thought about it long enough to hope that the Inspector would never return and not try to shut Cackle's down and maybe that future conferences with Mum and HB wouldn’t be so ordinarily explosive, and never gave the book Mum took home much thought, didn’t even think to look through it since the diagrams looked complicated and her _own_ textbooks gave her enough anxiety.

It’s not weird, she decides. It’s something, but it’s not weird.

“Yeah. I think so,” she says. “It’s cool! Really. Maybe you’ll talk about medicinal herbology during Parent’s Night instead of me blowing up the Potions Lab.” 

“That’ll only be funny if you don’t blow up the Potions Lab,” Mum says, very gently.

Ethel bangs on the door again.

“Gotta go, Mum! Love you! Say hi to HB for me!”

Mum rolls her eyes again, but this time at Mildred and definitely fond. _“Ha-ha_ . Do your homework! Love you!”

* * *

 

Mildred doesn’t think about it. 

She does think about Ethel, and keeps up the overly cheerful routine. It disarms Ethel long enough that Mildred can escape before she needs to tell a teacher. She just doesn’t want to cause _any_ situations. She wants to get more proficient at riding her broomstick and teach Tabby how to sit still during spells and prove that HB was _right_ about her, that she _can_ be a responsible Witch, and audition for the school play program that Miss Bat (and Mister Rowan-Webb, mostly Mister Rowan-Webb) is reviving in order to teach them history in a more imaginative way.

Ethel is definitely not conducive to that life.

Neither are Enid and Maud, apparently, because now they’re in the library after hours on a Saturday night, and Enid is invisible. Well. _Almost._  

“Oh no,” Mildred says, watching Enid’s floating hands. In her arms, Tabby squirms. Since he has a bad habit of following Mildred whenever she isn’t there, they had to bring him along.

Maud presses her glasses further up her nose. “Enid, your maglet message read _I’m studying, please help!_ It would be _helpful_ if you’d implied _help_ was the most important word!”

Her hands cross under invisible arms. “I _was_ studying. I just bottled a bit of Gradual Invisibility Potion to memorize the texture it’s supposed to have–”

“That’s what the textbooks are for!” Maud pokes her invisible shoulder. “Enid Nightshade, I swear, if we finally get expelled after all these years because you’re trying to be a good student–” 

“I didn’t mean for you to bring Millie! I know she’s–” 

“What am I, then? Chopped Witch Liver?” 

“You have the best grades in Potions, _Head of the Year Maud Spellbody.”_

“I–”

“Hey!” Mildred says, head spinning. “Can we maybe move this discussion back to the dorms?”

Maud and (probably) Enid look at her, Maud’s finger still raised. She pulls it back like it was slapped, and it likely was. Nursing the not-wound, she scowls in Enid’s likely direction. “I would say _of course,_ but these are HB’s prime patrolling hours and–” 

Tabby meows. Softly, but definitely not soft enough.  

They all freeze, waiting and waiting for any dreaded sound other than the particular silence of three in the morning, the wind swaying the tree leaves against the window. When no HBs pop out of thin air, they all tentatively relax. Mildred scratches Tabby’s chin to distract her.  

“That was close, Tabs,” Enid whispers. She reaches forward to pat Tabby on the head, but she hisses at Enid’s confusing, floating hands.

Maud sighs and pushes past them toward the rows of desk cubicles. At the very end of Enid’s row is the very old computer, whirring softly in the night. Mildred wonders if they ever shut it down, and if anyone will get mad at her for at least changing the screensaver timer.

Maud settles down at Enid’s chosen cubicle and it looks a lot like Mildred’s usually does: books stacked haphazardly, notes in unintelligible piles. The only marked difference is a collection of small glass bottles of varying potions on the shelf, only one of them completely empty. Maud picks up one sheet of Enid’s notes to hold it closer to the small lit desk lamp.

“Enid, have you been doing this all year?” Mildred whispers.

Enid shrugs, and Mildred can only tell by the way her hands bob up and down. “It makes Potions actually interesting. All those measurements and equations? Nah. A huge pile of weird green goop that makes you recite Shakespeare for four hours? Now that’s something I can get behind.” Her hands bob up and down again. “It’s how I did my homework with my dad over summer break. We got through _Hamlet,_ twice.” 

“It’s all the same thing,” Maud says, picking up another sheet. “If you actually studied those measurements, then we wouldn’t be here."

Mildred thinks she gets it. It’s like her drawing. “Why didn’t you tell me and Maud?”

“I hope I know why you didn’t tell me,” Maud says.

Suddenly, the outline of Enid’s face is visible.  “I didn’t...want to risk you getting in trouble again. _I_ didn’t want to get in trouble again. This is the only school I’ve ever truly liked, and I’d never forgive myself if I was the reason why Millie had to leave.”

Mildred smiles, teary-eyed. “It’s alright. I’m not angry. ”

Maud looks back, face softening. She squeezes both of their hands. “Me neither. And I’m sorry for yelling, Enid. None of us are going to get detention tonight, not on _my_ watch. I think I have the ans…” She looks at Enid, and her eyes widen. “Oh, it’s wearing off! You must not have put enough seaweed shards.” 

Enid frowns, visibly, her whole body becoming as solid as her hands. “I did too put enough seaweed shards! Or, hang on, maybe that was the batch where I switched out the seaweed for fish scales. I read on _WitcheryCrafts_ that fish scales can work bett–”

A sharp sigh echoes across the library. They freeze again, hoping it was imagined. Mildred covers Tabby’s mouth, gently. 

“Oh, bats,” Enid whispers. 

“That’s what I was thinking,” Maud whispers back. 

The sigh echoes again, even louder than the first time.

“Shit,” Mildred says, and they turn to stare at her. “ _Bats._ Mum says I’m still not allowed to swear.” 

“Bats is a swear,” Enid says.  

Maud pushes them all forward, and Tabby makes a whine of protest at being suddenly jostled. “C’mon! We have to go.”

“But my stuff–” 

“We’ll go down before breakfast tomorrow, let’s _go!”_  

They creep through the library, winding quickly through the shelves in order to fake-out their would be spy or ghost or Ethel, determined to get them expelled, or even _Agatha_ , free from her painting prison after all these years. As they finally round the last three shelves towards the comfy couches and the exit, Mildred almost lets out a breath of relief. They’re going to make it! She hugs Tabby closer and thinks about finally tucking under her warm covers and going back to sleep with no looming threats of detention or expulsion or Agatha invasions. 

Light spills into the last hallway, and Mildred keeps that breath held. “Let’s go another way?”

“There’s only one door,” Enid says, and the last of her invisibility fades away. “We could–”

“We are not climbing out a window!” Maud hisses.

“We’re on the ground floor!” 

There’s another sigh, louder than any before. Maud’s eyes widen, and Enid visibly gulps. 

“We just have to go,” Mildred whispers, voice full of terror, and links arms with both of them.

Hesitantly, they all press against the shelf farthest away from the light and creep forward (er, sideways) one tiny step at a time. Enid is the first to make it past the shelves and promptly gasps, the sound piercing. Startled, Mildred and Maud collide into each other, and they both collide into Enid. They nearly all fall over, too far away from the library’s comfy couches for a graceful landing, but Mildred manages to save them by grabbing onto a crammed copy of _Magical Latin: Outdated Or Necessary?_ sticking out of the shelf. Tabby meows again, and Mildred winces, closing her eyes against this entire evening.

“Enid, was that really ne–”

“You guys, it’s _HB!”_

Mildred blinks the library back into focus and is confronted with Miss Hardbroom, absolutely passed out in the comfy brown armchair tucked into the corner. Her reading lamp is on, and she sighs again, revealing her to be culprit. There’s an open book on her lap, and she’s still holding a pen, half-resting against a notebook on the side table. Mildred should feel a bolt of fear, but instead the sight makes her feel oddly serene. Miss Hardbroom _also_ reads late and falls asleep before she can turn out the light, just like most people. Then again, if she wakes _up_ now, Mildred might as well throw that entire memory of the Inspector out the wind–

“Is that _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix?”_

Mildred blinks. The book is cast in some shadow, but the edge of the cover is a familiar yellow.

Enid gapes. “It _can’t_ be.”

“Well, it’s definitely not a spellbook. Ugh, if only we could...levitate...no, no! We need to g–”

“Let’s just do a very quiet read-aloud spell and–”

“Are you _looney?_ We’re lucky she hasn’t already woken up!”

Mildred takes a few hesitant steps closer, but the book is still unreadable. Miss Hardbroom shifts in her sleep, and the pen clatters to the floor. She stops walking, but Miss Hardbroom simply shifts in her sleep once more, sighs, and continues to stay asleep. 

“I don’t think she reads fiction,” Enid says. “Or even knows it exist. I’m still not convinced she believes in food allergies.” 

“Of course she believes in _food allergies._ ” 

“No, remember when Sybil took a bite of her sandwich and got hives? HB–” 

“Millie!” Maud grabs her hand. “Millie, no! _”_

Mildred takes one great step forward, hand sliding past Maud’s grasp. The words _Ron, cauldron,_ and _Hogwarts_ are clearly written on the page. She’s not just on the fifth book of Harry Potter, she’s well into the fifth book of Harry Potter, and–

That’s her copy of _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix._ The same coffee stain slashed on the edge of the pages. The same dogear on the cover because Mildred curls pages when book plots make her nervous, and this particular book plot make her very, very nervous. But it _can’t_ be her book. Why on earth would HB have her copy? She’s absolutely seeing things, or dreaming, and in just a few moments Tabby will claw at her hair until she wakes up. 

She steps just a little closer to inspect the coffee stain, and what she sees stops her right in her tracks. There’s a note sticking out of the open page, evidently being used as a bookmark and Mildred can’t see the whole thing from this angle, but it’s in very, very familiar handwriting.

The end of it says, 

 _Hope you enjoy the lies and slander! -Julie_  

Before she can process _Mum, that’s Mum_ , the book closes shut. Mildred turns around to find Enid with an arm out, and Maud trying to push it away.

“That _is_ Harry Potter! Holy–”

Miss Hardbroom stirs. 

Maud tugs Mildred back. “Go, go, go! We have to go!”

They rush through the door, the castle’s chill brushing their hair back as they run back to the rooms, footsteps treacherously echoing along the stone hallway. When they reach the staircase to the dorms, there is no Miss Hardbroom waiting to expel them.

If miracles exist, Mildred thinks, they might be this.

 

* * *

 

Mildred still doesn’t think about it.

Enid and Maud are fascinated by the concept of HB reading HP, and conspire together all the ways they might ask her opinions, if any of them suddenly grew a whole new limb devoted to the concept of bravery. Maud wants to know if she thinks the series’ ending is contrived, Enid wants to ask who her favorite character is, and mostly it’s devolved to them all wondering if HB is more like Snape or McGonagall.

So far, it’s _Snape I, McGonagall II._

She still hasn’t told them about Mum’s note. It’s not like they would particularly care, but Mildred wants to ask Mum for herself. Though she doesn’t know exactly _what_ she wants to ask. It doesn’t bother her in a real way, it’s just very...curious. As much as Cackle's is real, sometimes it’s not at all, and the more it becomes real, the more home becomes as fantastical as Cackle's used to be. It’s all very confusing, and somehow Mum and HB actually getting along tilts all of that sideways all over again.

So, instead of dwelling or asking anyone anything, Mildred gets distracted by the school play, and debate about HB and HP dwindles until it’s just another funny story. 

She’s cast as the Great Wizard Jerome, who has a lot of lines that need to be memorized. She asked Mister Rowan-Webb if she could perhaps have a part with a few less lines, like maybe she has one dramatic monologue in the opening scene and then operates the curtains the rest of the show, but unfortunately he believes in her memorizing abilities. She can memorize, just not...specific words very well. Maud is cast as the Dread Pirate Witch, a character Mister Rowan-Webb added to the history for _dramatic flair_. Enid is one of the court fairies, but often gets out of rehearsal to work on lighting and costume design. 

Unfortunately, Ethel is the Faerie Queen. The character who has the most scenes with the Great Wizard Jerome.

It doesn’t go well.

They’re practicing outside–Miss Bat kept getting distracted by how lovely the later afternoon sun was, so Algernon moved them–when Ethel blows up for the fifteenth time because Mildred forgot a line, and an easy one, and she forgot it because she was _sure_ it was one of the longer lines, but not sure enough and so her words came out very, very wrong. 

Maud, practicing her swashbuckling, rushes to her aid in the ensuing fight, and it nearly comes to blows when Mildred reaches for Ethel’s script and nearly (accidentally!) sets it on fire. Miss Cackle and HB, who were taking a walk and came by to watch the rehearsal, suggest they paint the set together in lieu of Saturday Detention. Without magic.

“It may prove to be even more effective than a friendship bind,” Miss Cackle says, clasping her hands together. “Teamwork is best learned in a theatrical production.”

Miss Hardbroom looks as if she’s eaten something very sour. “Not through solidarity in dedication to the Craft, Ada?” 

Miss Cackle bumps her shoulder. “Two things can exist at the same time, Hecate.” 

Miss Hardbroom gives her a half-smile before she fixes Mildred and Ethel with a glare. Mildred tries not to wilt.

“Begone you two. _Craft...away_.”

 

* * *

 

Mildred’s vision sways, and suddenly she and Ethel are standing in the middle of the aisle beside Row Five, still mostly comprised of fold-out chairs. Mildred sighs, terribly frustrated with herself. If she was going to stay in Miss Hardbroom’s good graces, she would have to actually _stay_ in her good graces, and–

Just how many of her disasters involve _Ethel_ in the first place. 

She shakes the thought away, Mum’s advice too. She just needs to get through this detention, and then she’ll never argue with Ethel again.

Miss Bat is floating on a mop in the middle of the stage, hands outstretched as beams of light...no, _paint_ , shoot out from them, covering the pink canvas backdrop in a cacophony of mismatched purples and greens and yellows.  

Mildred and Ethel look at each other in confusion until Ethel remembers who she is and charges aisle with her head held high. Mildred rolls her eyes, gives a last wistful look at the beautiful day outside, and follows. 

“Miss Bat!” Ethel calls.

Miss Bat doesn’t turn around or stop her haphazard painting, and now that they’re closer to the stage Mildred can see that she’s wearing a giant pair of headphones, and is in fact humming along to whatever she’s listening to. It sounds a lot like the _Beatles,_ albeit out of tune _._  

“I thought she was with us at rehearsal,” Mildred murmurs.

“She went off to pick flowers before we even started the scene,” Ethel says, rolling her eyes like Mildred is very, very dense.

Abruptly, Miss Bat stops painting and clears her throat. With a flourish to rival HB, she throws her arms to the right and the left and Mildred’s jaw drops as she watches the colors move and curve and wind until they form the beginnings of mountainsides and sunsets and trees in the distance–the same ones Mildred drew for Enid while she was dictating set design. 

Magic! 

Ethel scowls. “There are many more sophisticated ways to accomplish a Painting Spell.”

Mildred decides not to roll her eyes again. “Miss Bat?” she says, louder. Oh! Magic! She cups her hands over her mouth and takes a deep breath, coaxing her magic to echo her words. She wonders if any Witch has ever broken the sound barrier.

“MISS BAT,” she calls, and the shout startles the pirate ship set in the corner of the stage, collapses an abandoned coat rack, rustles the curtains, and causes Miss Bat to pause her painting and lift one side of the headphones.

“Hmm?” she says, and turns around. “Yes?”

“Miss Bat!” Ethel whines, and– _oh no._ The blast pushed Ethel over too. She glares at Mildred with the strength of a thousand magical echoes.

“Miss Hubble and Miss Hallow! Here to report for detention, I presume,” Miss Bat snaps her fingers and the headphones disappear.

Mildred widens her eyes. “How did you...?”

She winks. “Lucky guess.”

If being pushed over didn’t enrage Ethel further, then the realization that they weren’t going to get out of this detention by virtue of lack of supervisor does. She gets up as gracefully as she can manage and storms back over to Mildred, hands curled into fists at her sides. “Mildred Hubble, you are the most daft–” 

“No need for such a fuss, Miss Hallow. Simply paint the set as Miss Hardbroom and Miss Cackle instructed, and you’ll be free the rest of your Saturday.” 

Hair rises on the back of Mildred’s neck. There’s no way Miss Bat could have known those details unless she was there, and she couldn’t have been at rehearsal still if she was here, painting the set. Judging by the way Ethel’s eyes widen and her fists uncurl in shock, Mildred’s feelings aren’t completely wrong. 

Miss Bat smiles a bit dreamily, and gently lowers the mop to the floor. She vanishes it with a wave of her hand and puts her hands on her hips. “Well, girls? Get to it! I’ll be in the Green Room, practicing the overture. I _think_ …” she looks up towards the ceiling and starts walking off stage, not paying them any more mind, “....I think I need to change the melody again…it’s a little bit too…”

Her voice becomes muffled behind the curtain, and Mildred and Ethel are left alone in the theater with only the set for company.

Not really wanting to spend another moment being glared at, Mildred hoists herself on the stage and begins their terrible Saturday. She eyes the pirate ship, which still looks quite a lot like plywood and repurposed bed sheets.

“Are you really going to paint the set?” Ethel says, arms crossed. “That old Bat probably wouldn’t notice if we just worked on homework. _You_ definitely need the extra time.” 

Mildred tries not to bristle. She shrugs and puts on her most cheerful voice, absolutely determined to make the rest of the afternoon as peaceful as possible. “If you want to double cross HB, be my guest.”

Ethel grumbles, but the concept of another punishment by HB drives her to join Mildred on the stage. She’s not totally horrible if she doesn’t help her hoist herself on the stage, right? Mum says she needs to experience consequences and–  

Ethel trips on her way up.

Mildred reaches down to help before she can think anymore about the ethical implications of letting her classmate fall two feet, but Ethel pushes her hands away. “I’m _fine_. Where’s the stupid paint and paintbrush?” She crosses her arms. “And if you really expect me to paint by hand like some kind of–”

“Like I said,” Mildred says, feeling the same anger in her stomach as the day the Inspector came to Cackle's, “If you want to go against orders–”

“Since when do _you_ care about orders so much!” Ethel says, charging past her towards the paint buckets, left by Miss Bat near the pirate ship.

Mildred takes a deep, steadying breath and decides she’s just not going to talk to her the rest of the day. That’ll keep everything peaceful. That’ll prevent any catastrophic fights Mildred will need to tell a teacher about because she can’t stop thinking about _consequences._ Finally, she’s started to understand them, be cautious of them, but Ethel is mean with her magic, and it’s just not very fair that they’re both here on a Saturday when– Well, Mildred _did_ almost set her script on fire, but it’s still not fair at all.

They decide to work on the pirate ship, and that’s the last they speak.

Ethel doesn’t use magic after all, but not wanting to admit to a lack of artistic skill, she paints the backgrounds and the deck and leaves Mildred to handle the intricate designs planned for the hull, masts, and sides. Here, Mildred is finally in her element; she still knows and understands art better than any spell and in the familiar frustration of trying to replicate the same patterns she drew on paper on a much larger scale, she’s able to completely tune Ethel out. Even while rotating between painting different parts of the ship. Ethel seems equally dedicated to working and not speaking.

Which is why it’s surprising when, after a few rotations, Ethel calls up, “Really, why do you care so much about magic all of a sudden?”

Mildred stops painting and frowns at her uneven triangle. She’s on the crow’s nest, and Ethel is just below her on the second deck. She only wishes this were a real ship, on the real ocean, where Ethel would be too far down for conversation. “I’ve always cared,” she says. 

Ethel huffs. “Don’t lie. You thought magic was just a funny game only last year.” 

“Well,” Mildred says, slowly. “Magic may not be funny, but it is fun.” She looks down, against her better judgement. “Don’t you think magic is fun?" 

Ethel glares. “Whether or not it’s _fun_ isn’t the point. The point is–”

“Yes, what is your point?”

Ethel crosses her arms, paintbrush still in hand. “It’s just not that fair that you’re still _here._ You nearly destroy the school all the time and only get detention after detention, and I get one ingredient wrong _once_ and it’s like,” she glares at the paintbrush in her hand. “I’m the same _as you_ . It’s just,” she shakes her head. “I’m a _Hallow._ It’s not fair at all, and if nothing else, you should feel bad about that.”

Mildred swallows against a lump in her throat, and the word _fair_ –her word–echoes in her mind. She feels her hand clench into a fist, and breathes, in, out. She makes herself remember that HB said she has a place in this school, makes herself remember her friends, her Mum, and that Ethel was _just_ a bully who didn’t matter. “I don’t,” she says quickly before she loses her nerve. “I’m very sorry, Ethel, but I don’t feel bad at all. I’m going to go back to painting now.”

She looks away before Ethel can respond, and she doesn’t at all, doesn’t even try to turn her into a toad again or call for a teacher. Mildred hovers her paintbrush over her design–the insignia for the Great Wizard Jerome’s? school of magic–and tries not to feel too terribly bad. After all, Ethel has said worse things to her. She just _said_ worse things to her, and Mildred has said worse things back in the years before. This is simply standing up for herself and her place at Cackle's, and she’s not going to feel bad. 

Just as Mildred is about to attempt the triangle again, something clatters to the floor. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Mildred turns her head. “I’ve got to finish this insignia before I can finish the rest of the design.” 

There’s a whoosh of air and suddenly Ethel is across from her on the Crow’s Nest, arms crossed. “You can’t just ignore me!”

Mildred’s eyes widen. “Did you just…?”

“Transfer? Ethel gives one of her patented haughty smiles. “Do you mean to ask if I’m potentially the youngest Witch in a generation to successfully learn a transfer spell? Even Esme couldn’t perfect it until two weeks prior to her exam.”

“But…” Mildred looks off into the curtains, startled by an image of Ethel able to jumpscare them whenever she pleases. “We aren’t supposed to practice until we’re enrolled in HB’s class!” 

Ethel uncrosses her arms only to recross her arms. “This is why you’ll always be the worst witch in our year, Mildred Hubble. I bet your best _friends_ have practiced at home with their parents.” She smiles again, more cruel than haughty. “Of course, you’re not able to do that 

Mildred goes cold, and all of Mum’s advice fades away. “Leave me alone _,_ Ethel. Just go,” her eyes burn and she points her brush to the deck. “Just go paint the stupid set and stop taking _everything_ out on me!”

Ethel’s mouth falls open. “What?” she says, a bit shrill.

Mildred swallows, and feels like she’s shaking, nerves turning knots in her stomach, but her hands remain deathly still. “You...I know your mum doesn’t,” she swallows again, “doesn't think you're the best at magic, no matter...but that doesn’t give you the right–” 

“Nor _you!”_ Ethel shoots forward with a finger pointed, face red. “You don’t know anything!  You don’t know what it’s been like ever since Esme’s magic started flickering!”

Mildred takes a few steps back, mindful of the lack of railing. She furrows her brows. “Esme? What about Esme? Is...is there something wrong with her magic again?” 

Ethel’s eyes widen and she lowers her finger. “Never mind!” she snaps, and crosses her arms again. “It’s none of _your_ business, anyway.”

Mildred wracks her brain for the textbook reading on _flickering_ , she’s certain there was a reading in Mister Rowan-Webb’s class, perhaps Miss Bat’s, but...Flickering, flickering...flickering… _“When a Witch’s magic has been altered or removed in any way, reintegrating her magic may cause what is knowing to the Witching World as ‘Flickering,’ the..._ something about outbursts of unintentional magic because of emotions–” 

“Quiet!” Ethel hisses and steps forward. “No one is supposed to know, and especially not you.”

Mildred focuses in on Ethel’s face and can see the stress straining, pushing her eyebrows together and almost making her appear stricken. She’s only seen Ethel truly afraid once before, the day Agatha took over the school. It’s alarming, but not as alarming as the notion that Agatha’s damage continues to dig roots. “Do they know if...Esme will get better?”

Ethel shakes her head furiously. “It's none of your business. I swear, Mildred Hubble,” she steps forward and points her finger again menacingly. “If you tell a single solitary Witch about–”

“It’s not that your Mum isn’t paying attention to your studies,” Mildred says, almost without meaning to. She softens her brow. “It’s that she’s paying _more_ attention, isn’t it?”

Ethel’s face reddens, more angry than Mildred has ever seen her. “You don’t know anything! Anything at all! _”_  

“I don’t understand, Ethel,” Mildred says, heart hurting. “If it’s true, then...isn’t that what you wanted? Why…”

“Drop it, or I swear I’ll–”

“Why are you so determined to fight with me!” Mildred fights against a barrage of tears and crosses her arms. “I don’t want to fight with you, can’t you understand?”

Ethel takes another step forward. “Shut _up!_ It’s not–”

But Ethel doesn’t get to finish her tirade, because Mildred forgets about the lack of railing, forgets about the fact that they’re so very high up on a rickety miniature pirate ship made of cheap plywood, and takes one more disastrous step back. Her breath catches in her throat when her right foot meets the air and she doesn’t realize what’s happening until she sees Ethel reaching down, why is she reaching down, what is that purple light shooting out of her hand, why does she look scared for _Mildred_ , and oh, Mildred is falling, she’s falling, the air rushes past her like the worst rollercoaster, and she’s falling– 

“Mildred! Mildred, hold–”

There's a rush of air and–

“ _Ethel_   _Hallow, what is the meaning of–”_  

Then, nothing. Just darkness and more darkness, like she’s just fallen asleep and dreams are about to begin and shouldn’t she be knocked out if she fell so far down? Why is there just _nothing._ She tries to take a deep breath and finds that she can’t, finds that she can’t feel her arms, finds that some invisible pressure is pushing her down, down, and– 

Back up?

“Hold on, Mildred,” she hears, recognizing the voice but unable to place it, the pressure on her lungs is too great, and the darkness is too big. She wants to respond, say that she’s fine and certain she just accidentally fell asleep, but then–

There really is nothing at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slightly less hb in this chapter, but she'll be back!
> 
> also, thank you all so much for the really awesome response so far! please do leave a comment if you feel inclined, and i'll see you next week!


	3. What's Past Is Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoa this is late! i got stuck a few weeks ago and burned out a bit trying to fix it, so i focused on some other fics for a little while. but it's done! 
> 
> once again, thank you so, so much for your lovely comments so far! this story has allowed me to bring in so many elements of so many fantastical stories i grew up loving, and i'm so glad it resonates! i'm also glad that hb/julie resonates too, it's been very interesting figuring out how they would relate to each other. moms! eventual moms! (hey swen.) i promise i'm going to try and respond to your comments as soon as i'm able to!
> 
> also, a cw/tw on this chapter for discussions of bullying.

Mildred sees a very bright light overhead. Like when the dentist checks for cavities.

She’s almost certain she's not at the dentist. Almost. Then voices. Two voices in particular, though she can’t understand very many words.

_“Millie…”_

_“...dare you…”_

_“...supposed to be charmed already!”_

_“Bad idea…”_

_“Hallow!”_

Mildred she sits up with a gasp, as though she's finally breathing oxygen after a very long journey through the vacuum of space.  She feels herself heaving and wonders why she can't seem to get in a full breath–it's not like she's in space _anymore_ , she can see all the long cots and high windows of the Infirmary . She’s in the _Infirmary !_ Hands rest on her back and forearm and a familiar gentle voice soothes her away from panic.

“You're alright now, love. I promise.”

She blinks the face in front of her into focus and it’s Mum, hair pulled back like she does for hospital shifts, still in her scrubs actually. The blue ones with the Rainbow Fish pattern. Mildred picked them from the shop when she was five. Mum’s brows are tightly drawn in, and Mildred despairs like she always does whenever she’s done something to upset her.

“I…” she manages before a coughing fit steals her air again. Mum pats her on the back until she quiets down again, her eyes watering with the effort. _Shit._ Er, shoot. Bats. What happened?

“If you’ll stop pulverizing her lungs, I can repeat the spell–”

“It was a _spell_ that got her into this mess!”

Mildred follows Mum’s glare to the second person who spoke before–Miss Hardbroom, arms crossed, looking at Mum with an equally cross expression. Oh _no._ They’re mad at each other again, and it’s all her fault, all because stupid Ethel Hallow–

Oh. That’s what happened.

“Mum,” she mumbles, and immediately feels too dizzy to sit up. She was falling, wasn’t she? She can almost imagine herself falling flat on the floor, the wind knocked out of her like that time she fell out of the Bounce House at a friend’s outdoor birthday party. That’s not what happened though. She knows that. She was falling and Ethel was screaming and reaching towards her, and then _Miss Hardbroom_ rushed in! That was the voice she heard, telling her...something. Or maybe she transferred, she probably transferred, and–

“That’s it, I’m taking her to the hospital and you–”

“Miss Hubble, I may appreciate your medical knowledge, but your...doctors cannot possibly fathom how to help Mildred!” Miss Hardbroom says, arms uncrossing. She holds onto the metal frame of the bed next to Mildred’s and looks at her pointedly. “This is precisely why transferring won’t be taught until _next_ term.”

Mildred blinks. “Transferring?”

“You tried to transfer, sweetheart, in the theater. Miss Hardbroom had to...pull you back in. So you wouldn’t get stuck…” Mum starts to look a little green, and Mildred has never seen Mum look nauseated before in her life, and she really doesn’t understand.

Miss Hardbroom takes a deep breath, and relinquishes her grip on the frame. She clears her throat. “I am certain that one more incantation and a spoonful of Recalibration Potion should put Mildred back on her feet.”

Mum stands up from Mildred’s bed and crosses her arms. “You’re _certain,_ Miss Hardbroom? Just like you were certain that Mildred would wake up in just ten minutes, or that it would work the first–”

“Magic is _precise_ , and I had no way of knowing that Ethel Hallow attempted to _levitate_ her off the blasted…” she shakes her head. “ _Pirate. Ship,”_ she says, each word drenched up from the bottom of the ocean with pure misery.

“You know, if I didn’t know better to think you enjoy anything at all, I’d think you enjoy interrupting me,” Mum says, arms still firmly crossed.

Miss Hardbroom takes a step forward and takes a very deep breath, just as she does whenever Mildred turns her hair blue instead of a potion. “I simply didn’t want to waste time _arguing–”_

“Um,” Mildred says before she realizes that’s _interrupting HB._ Both of them look over at her, Miss Hardbroom’s stare withering, Mum’s shifting from withering to concerned. “I’m sorry, but I still don’t really know what happened,” she says.

Miss Hardbroom looks back at Mum, blinks a few times, and then quickly steps away to stand on the other side of Mildred’s bed. Her glare softens, just a bit. “You nearly fell to your...” Shakes her head, furiously. “You wouldn’t have fallen, of course. Mister Rowan Webb did, in fact, place the right charms around that hideous structure. Miss Hallow’s interference simply caused the incident more...complications.”

“ _Nice_ ,” Mum says, hand on her forehead.

Strangely, Miss Hardbroom doesn’t rebuttal the sarcasm.

Mildred shakes her head, which doesn’t help with the dizziness. “Miss Hardbroom, I...really don’t...remember transferring at all. I wouldn’t even know how to try.”

Miss Hardbroom tilts her head. “Accidental transference is known to occur when a Witch is nearly powerful enough to begin learning how.” She sighs. “When Ethel Hallow tried to levitate you, it’s very possible your magic responded–”

“Wait, Ethel didn’t try to levitate me,” Mildred says, quickly. HB glares again, and she winces. “Er, sorry again, for interrupting.”

“What did...she do, then?” Mum asks, frowning.

Mildred tugs on her braid, now mostly bedraggled. “Well, I think…” she stares out the window. “Oh! I think she was attempting to...transfer _me?_ ” She widens her eyes, realizing what she’s revealed about Ethel’s own transferring capabilities.

“Of course,” HB says. She sighs again, sharper this time. “One moment, and my apologies, Miss Hubble...for interrupting.”

Before either of them can react, HB transfers away and doesn’t reappear again.

Mildred looks at Mum properly for the first time. Her worried brows are still present, and she seems more hunched over than usual. “I’m sorry, mum,” she murmurs.

Mum quirks her lips up. “Whatever for?”

“I’m always getting into trouble,” Mildred says, wanting to cry and wanting to never be this dizzy again. “You were probably at a shift, and–”

“Oh sweetheart, I was at lunch _and_ it was macaroni and cheese day–you know the lumpy kind with the white cheddar–and, well, I actually demanded to be here. Your silly teachers thought they could just inform me over the mirror, and that’s it?” She shakes her head. “HB _eventually_ saw my point of view.”

Mildred raises a brow. “HB?”

Mum sighs. “Yes, HB. Miss Cackle assured me that you were safe and unharmed, but well…” she smiles, wobbly. “My mother always said we mums have a sixth sense about things.”

“You really call her HB?” Mildred says.

Mum tilts her head. “Sometimes. Isn’t that what you girls call her?”

Mildred clutches her stomach, all that dizziness catching up with nausea. “Well, not...to her face,” her vision tilts sideways, but she can still see Mum staring at the spot where Miss Hardbroom once stood. “Mum, is there maybe a, barf bag, or…”

This jolts Mum into action, and she reaches somewhere beyond Mildred’s bed for a larger cauldron. As Mildred hauls herself over it, she hears a _whoosh_ and three new voices.

“See, Esme, I _told you all_ I was telling the truth!”

A sigh. “Ethie, I wanted to believe you, but–”

“If I really wanted to _seriously injure Mildred Hubble_ I would have in Year– Oh, hello, Miss…..Um, Miss Hubble.”

The nausea stops pressing against her windpipe, and Mildred steadily looks up to find Esme and an oddly sheepish Ethel, Esme’s hand protectively on her sister’s arm. Although who she was protecting, Mildred isn’t quite sure. Mum, for her part, is looking a little bit murderous, but Mildred’s certain only she can tell.

“Ethel,” she says, murderously. “Esme,” she says, a little kinder.

Esme gives a far more sheepish, possibly embarrassed smile. “Hi Mildred, Miss Hubble. Sorry about all this. Hope you feel better soon, Millie.”

Mildred smiles. “Thanks, Esme.” She almost says _you too_ , remembering what Ethel said on the Crow’s Nest, but remembers that she isn’t supposed to know just in time.

HB transfers in with a flourish, and flicks away a speck of dust on her shoulder. She fixes Mildred with a sharp stare. “Now, then. Mildred, did Ethel Hallow intentionally levitate you off the...the...pirate...did Ethel Hallow _intentionally_ push you?”

Everyone watches Mildred with baited breath. Most of all, Ethel. Mildred thinks about her Mum’s words, about letting Ethel suffer the consequences, but these consequences are probably _expulsion_ and this time, well, it simply wouldn’t be the whole truth, and Mildred couldn’t live with herself if Ethel got expelled for a lie, even a partial one.

“No,” she says, and both Hallows let out sighs of relief. “We were...having an argument, and–”

“You mean _you_ were arguing,” Ethel says, arms crossed. “About something utterly _stupid.”_

 _“Ethie,”_ Esme says, eyes closed.

“Go on, Mildred,” Miss Hardbroom says, and doesn’t look relieved quite yet.

“We _were_ arguing, and I didn’t start it. I want to say that first. It _was_ ,” she takes a deep breath, drudging the words up even though her nerves are trying to stamp them out, “It was _her_ fault that we were arguing in the first place. I just wanted to paint the set.” Her whole face burns, and she doesn’t look at Ethel. “But...I wasn’t watching where I was stepping, so I uh, sort of stepped right off the boat? Ethel was trying to...save me, actually. I think.” HB raises her most skeptical brow of the day. “That’s the real truth, Miss Hardbroom, I promise.”

This explanation settles over everyone. Mum stares at nobody in particular, forehead lined in thought, Esme looks oddly proud of her sister, HB shakes her head and mutters something about _the decline of the Craft,_ and in the midst of everything, Ethel is startled from bewilderment into a weird, desperate anger. “Well, I really should have known there were charms around the set! Any _responsible_ Witch–”

“Ethel, I will decide your lines for unauthorized transferring, and I do hope you’ll...rethink this ridiculous feud with Mildred Hubble once and for all,” HB says, glaring.

Ethel looks back at Mildred. “But I–”

“Thank you, Hallows,” HB says, and transfers them away.

Mum looks at her, still with her worried brows. “Millie, _is_ that the real truth?”

Mildred sighs. “Yes, Mum.”

“Is there some reason why it _wouldn’t_ be the real truth?” HB says, looking between them in something close to confusion.

Mum nods over at HB. “Are you saying that because your teacher’s in the room?”

“No,” Mildred says, close to rolling her eyes, but she knows that Mum only means well and only wants the best for her. “I’d say the same exact thing if we were mirroring right now.” She tries to look as firm and resolute as possible, even while her stomach lurches all over again. “I _promise,”_ she repeats.

Mum smiles, still looking worried. She squeezes Mildred’s hand, and pushes forward the cauldron. “Alright. I believe you.”

HB looks almost startled. She crosses her arms again. “ _As_ Mildred’s teacher, I would like very much to know what is going _on.”_

Mum looks at Mildred in a question, and Mildred nods. “Millie and I had a deal, you see. She was going to tell _you_ if Ethel bothered her again.” She crosses her arms. “Since I hadn’t been getting any reports from either of you, I thought that girl perhaps grew a brain _and_ a heart all at the same time.”

Miss Hardbroom begins to glare, oh no, oh no. “Matters concerning my students’ behavior are still none of your business, Miss Hubble.”

Mum glares _back_ , oh no. “They are when one is my daughter, and she’s being _hurt_.”

“Mum!” Mildred says, and looks at HB. “It’s my fault for not telling anyone. I just thought that if I ignored Ethel, if I just stopped responding to fights that she would…”

Miss Hardbroom’s face crumples, just for a moment. It’s so startling that Mildred loses her trail of thought entirely. “You know,” she mumbles, and reaches for the cauldron again.

Mum stops glaring immediately. “Oh, Millie that’s...Oh, sweetheart.” She sits down next to Millie again, and puts an arm around her shoulder.

HB schools her expression, and carefully sits down on the hospital bed across from her. “...That...she would get bored and simply move on to another person. Is that it, Mildred? Is that what’s been going on?” She looks very, very grave.

Mildred feels herself tearing up, and quickly swipes at her eyes. She will _not_ cry in front of Hb. “Yeah,” she says. She sniffs. “Yeah that’s it. Maybe not another person, though. I don’t really want her to pick on anyone. Even Drusilla.”

Miss Hardbroom looks at a spot behind them, still grave. She takes a very loud breath, and rigidly stands up. “I…will writing to her parents immediately. _Provoking_ another student without reason is unacceptable behavior for a Witch. Especially one in her own coven.”

Mildred startles, moving her head so fast that nausea swims again. “No! No, I mean…” She grimaces. “Miss Hardbroom, you don’t have to do that.”

“Millie,” Mum says softly, and looks at Miss Hardbroom with an unidentifiable expression. It’s similar to the one she gave her before they talked on Parent’s Night. She looks back at Mildred and holds one of her cheeks.  “Miss Hardbroom _has_ to write Ethel’s mum and dad. Just like I want to know what’s going on with you, they want to know what’s going on with her. Even if it’s decidedly bad news.”

HB looks at her, very severely. “It is my duty as Deputy Headmistress to be certain that my students are both accounted for and safe _._ ” She looks briefly over at Mum, and nods. “I should...have been aware...of this situation _without_ you having to tell me. Do you understand?”

Mildred swallows and nods, guilt forming like a crick in her neck. If only she hadn’t fallen off the pirate ship, then….She’s not just sure Ethel’s parents _want_ to know what’s going on with her, except when it considers the _Hallow_ name. _Unacceptable for a Witch_ sounds like a phrase that will definitely get Ethel into trouble, but–

Hasn’t she deserved it? Getting in trouble for once, instead of Mildred?

Mildred frowns. And thinks about consequences. Thinks about how Ethel torments their whole class, all because...all because? It suddenly seems totally ridiculous that Ethel would shirk the friendship of everyone, even Drusilla, her loyal minion. Every time she’s felt bad and terrible, Maud and Enid have been there with hugs and kind words. When she’s being ridiculous, they’re there to tell her that too, but not without that same kindness. She wants to believe that everyone deserves _that_ , but Ethel is so mean and might always be. No matter what. Maybe–

Maybe if Ethel’s parents have consequences, they’ll learn to be kinder too.

“Alright,” she says, still hesitant. HB looks from Mum back to her. “I understand. I think.”

Mum gives her another hug. “I know it’s tough, I know. You’re very, very brave.”

“I don’t feel particularly brave,” Mildred says. Her stomach lurches again. “I feel like I just fell off a pirate ship.”

HB smiles at her, a real one. “Listen to your mother, Mildred.”

Mum gives HB another curious stare. She raises her brow. “What’s going to happen next?”

Miss Hardbroom clears her throat, the smile dropping. “I will inform Miss Cackle of exactly what has transpired. In the...meantime, I will retrieve the necessary potion for your recovery, Mildred. Since you did not use your own magic in order to transfer, you will only require a simple Anti Levitation Drought, which should subside any nausea.” She smiles again at Mum, faintly, just a twitch of her lips, before she completely reschools her expression. “No Recalibration Spell necessary.”

Mum raises a brow. “ _Really_ . Just a potion? _”_

Miss Hardbroom folds her hands together. “Really,” she says, slowly, expression souring.

Mum tilts her head, and she looks like she’s trying very hard to figure something out. “Alright,”  she says, just as slowly. “I suppose I should trust you of all people with Witch Chemistry. But this one better work, or I _am_ taking her to my hospital.”

Miss Hardbroom rolls her eyes and almost smiles again, but no, that can’t be right. “Is Potions such a terribly difficult word to memorize, Miss Hubble?”

Mum taps her head exaggeratedly. “I don’t waste brain space on semantics.”

Mildred wants to cover her face in preparation for yet another argument, one she can’t leave because any movement she makes tips the entire contents of her stomach sideways. Instead, she just freezes on the bed and stares furtively at HB, who is narrowing her eyes and surely deciding what species of newt she’s planning on turning her mother into.

Instead, Miss Hardbroom says, “Only on...what were they called? Shampoo Operas?”

Mum laughs, her real laugh too. Mildred tries not to gape. “One of these days, I’ll get you to watch Holby City and we’ll see if you don’t cry.”

They’re not _fighting_ anymore. The real fighting, the important arguments, those are done now. They–

It hits Mildred like she fell off the Crow’s Nest anyway.

“You’re _friends_ now! _”_ _  
_

Miss Hardbroom and Mum look at her and blink with equally bewildered stares, which means Mildred definitely said that out loud. Oops.

Mum side-glances at HB, bewilderment turning into bemusement. “You know, Millie, perhaps we are. What do you say, Miss Hardbroom. Are we friends?”

Miss Hardbroom stares at Mildred as if she just materialized out of nowhere–and as she definitely knows, Mildred doesn’t yet have that ability–and then back at Mum, eyes furiously blinking as she tries to school her expression into Scary Miss Hardbroom. “If it’ll stop this inane conversation.”

“Friends, then,” Mum says, brightly.

Miss Hardbroom twists her lips up, and folds her hands together, no merriment at all. She nods, sharply. “Fri….ends,” she says, and carefully steps back. “I’ll go get the potion.” With a flourish of her arms, she transfers away.

“I…” Mildred says, and her stomach lurches again. Stupid nausea. “ _Are_ you friends?”

Mum presses the cauldron towards her, and sighs. “I have no idea,” she mutters. “Wicked Witch of the bloody....” she furiously shakes her head and smiles at Mildred. “I have to get back to my shift soon, love. If you’re still feeling terrible later–”

“I’ll mirror you, straight away. Promise,” she says, then laughs, and promptly stops when it hurts her stomach. “Sorry for interrupting, mum.”

Mum laughs and kisses the top of her head. “And I’m so proud of you for speaking up. If that Ethel Hallow causes you any more trouble…”

“I know. I mean, I think I know what to do now,” Mildred says, and watches her watch the spot where Miss Hardbroom once stood, once again. She frowns, and thinks about how grave HB seemed, how she actually _believed_ Mildred. “Sometimes I think Miss…” she blinks around the room, certain HB will transfer back at any moment, or hear the conversation anyway. “...Never mind. I just…I think if you are really friends with Miss Hardbroom, you have to tell her.”

“I believe I just did,” Mum says, wryly.

“Properly, with no joking at all,” Mildred says as seriously as she can, which is still very difficult while anxiously clutching a barf cauldron. “She’s very, very terrible at jokes.”

Mum tilts her head. “Alright.” She taps Mildred on the nose. “Adults don’t make very much sense, Millie. Don’t worry about it, and just focus on getting well.” She frowns. “I’m _still_ taking you into the clinic when you’re home.”

“I’ll have to worry about it soon,” Mildred reminds.

Mum laughs. “Well, you’re still my baby.”

Mildred groans. _“Mum._ ”

Mum smiles, all crinkles by her eyes. “Do you want me to sit with you until Miss Hardbroom gets back?”

Mildred fidgets with the end of her braid, thinking of how cold the castle felt the first night she slept here, but it’s not the first night she’s ever stayed there, and she’s going to be a competent Witch one day, she really will, but tonight the Infirmary is dark with sunset and she nearly died in a theater, except it would have all been fine if Ethel Hallow hadn’t tried to save her from a pirate ship and Ethel Hallow is still very, very mean, and a part of her just wants to go _home_ , so she says, “It’s okay, mum. I can message Enid and Maud to keep me company. I know they’re not doing any homework because they’ve been playing Maglet Ball on our group chat.”

Mum smiles again. “Alright. The Potions Lab is...three doors to the left, isn’t it?” She rolls her eyes. “ _Only_ three doors, of course.”

Mildred laughs.

 

* * *

 

She thinks about it now. Sometimes.

Mum has plenty of friends from work and some from Uni–they’ve all been her babysitter at some point and she calls a lot of them _Aunty_ , since she only has an Uncle who lives in America and hasn’t ever met him. It’s extremely difficult to imagine HB amongst Mum and her friends with their hair pulled back from a day at the office, talking about _work_ and _dating_ (ew) and the _government_ with glasses of wine in hand. Being talked into a game of DDR by Mildred, and accepting her drawings as holiday gifts.

Still. Mildred decides that it’s good if Mum and Miss Hardbroom have become proper friends.

She even decides to tell Maud and Enid.

(She decides not to talk about the end to the Ethel situation, except to say that no, she didn’t push her off the pirate ship.)

Enid contemplatively thwacks her rolled up script of _The Tempest–_ Miss Bat’s artistic vision changed and so much resembled _The Tempest_ that Mister Rowan-Webb switched out the scripts without her noticing–against the fold-out chair now charmed red audience seat in front of them. “HB has a _friend?”_

“That friend _is your mum?”_ Maud says, pausing in marking the new script with new blocking.

Mildred’s own script remains unhighlighted. Mister Rowan-Webb re-cast her as Prospero, so she hasn’t escape her line load. She’s pretty certain she now has more lines. His faith in her memorizing abilities is still dangerous for the production, but luckily they’d been able to push it ahead a month what with the er, script changes. (The pirate ship still remains, though it’s now much more heavily charmed.)

“Remember when the Inspector came?” Mildred half mumbles, and tries as best she can to explain the whole thing with Herbology and Potions and the fact that they mirror now and have a book club? Except it’s just the two of them and Mum calls her _HB_ and may be the only person who’s ever called her HB to her face and lived to tell the tale?

At the end of it, Mildred decides it was stupid to tell them, and makes them both drop it, and no she won’t say which HP book is HB’s favorite, first of all, she doesn’t know, and it would be very, very weird if she asked out of the blue, it’s not like _she’s_ friends with HB.

Maud is the one to drop it first as she’s very intent on working and rehearsing–she was recast as Ferdinand and is trying to memorize her new lines by marking and underlining the iambic pentameter. (Probably no one is going to tell Miss Hardbroom or Miss Cackle about the script change from “historical” to “well, sort of?”)

Enid, however, keeps on asking until Mildred’s annoyance turns snappy. She hates snapping at her friends and they know that, so Enid, who never drops a thing, decides to let it go and dares them all to draw all over Ethel’s script instead. She has been loudly reciting her monologues during _quiet memorization time_ to an audience of Drusilla, so it’s a very tempting thought. After cheerfully deliberating what they’d draw, they finally decide that they’re too old for those shenanigans and Mildred hesitantly picks up her new script.

Then Ethel _suddenly_ starts croaking like a frog.

Mildred looks at Enid, and she nods over to Maud, who is still marking with a hand subtly raised. She drops it, and Ethel’s voice turns to normal. All of the students try very hard not to laugh at the indignant look on her face. Only a few succeed.

“She’s interrupting,” Maud says simply.

Mildred blinks. Enid makes a noise that sounds like _Sheesh,_ and goes back to her own script full of lighting and sound notes–she completely eschewed the re-cast, deciding to use her _Craft-Given talents for a spectacular show._

Ethel tries to suss out the culprit by interrupting every single practice session, but oddly skims right over Mildred, Enid, and Maud. Instead, she fixes Mildred with a questioning stare, a far cry from her usual pure disdain, and then her eyes drift to the pirate ship and oh, could this be Ethel giving her the benefit of the doubt? Is this Ethel feeling...bad? Or is this Ethel knowing that bothering Mildred will now have consequences? She still feels waves of guilt knowing that she’s indirectly the cause of whatever trouble Ethel is now in with her parents, not to mention Cackle’s–in fact, Ethel is only allowed to be in the play if she doesn’t bother anyone, which she is definitely doing right now. Mildred raises a brow at Ethel in her best imitation of HB, (which isn’t very good), daring her to accuse Mildred of _anything._ Ethel turns up her nose and bothers the next group. Which contains her own little sister.

Maybe Ethel hasn’t learned a thing. Maybe she just thinks that Mildred doesn’t have the skill for a voice transmogrification spell. That would be like her.

Which brings Mildred back to HB and Mum, and why her friends think it’s bewildering that they’re friends. It wouldn't be that weird if say, Maud’s Mum and HB were suddenly friends, except to note that it is rather strange to see HB being friends with _anyone_ other than Miss Cackle (and Miss Pentangle.)

Mum is Ordinary. That’s the difference.

And it’s not like Maud and Enid and the rest of their year are anything like _Ethel,_ who chooses every moment she can to remind Mildred that her Ordinary past is why she’ll never be a decent Witch, but it’s–

It’s like. How she has to explain cinema and DDR and there’s a whole _Internet_ out there just for people who have magic, and Mum’s worried brows when she woke up in the Infirmary and how she won’t ever be able to brew a levitation potion with her and–

It’s like. _It’s like._

 

* * *

 

Mildred doesn’t mention it again until Miss Hardbroom walks into the theater on Opening Night of _The Faerie Queen’s Tempest_ (some of Miss Bat’s original lines made it back in) with Mum by her side, deep in conversation about something or other. It wouldn’t even be remarkable except that she, Enid, and Maud are sticking their heads out of the side curtain using a drop of Invisibility Potion, so infinitesimally small that their outlines are still clearly visible, and Mum laughs at something Miss Hardbroom says.

“Oh wow,” Enid says. “Either your mum has the worst sense of humor–”

“HB is _smiling!”_ Maud says, in awe. “Er, I think? You can never tell if– Wait, yes. Your mum is definitely magic, Mildred.”

“She’s not, though,” Mildred murmurs, and steps back into the curtain. She feels her eyes burn and absolutely cannot cry, because Enid and Felicity spent a good half hour getting the sparkles around her eyes just right, and finally decided what shade of silver her lipstick should be _and_ whether one of her monologues should be shortened because she absolutely cannot memorize some of the middle sections. Luckily, Shakespeare is still Shakespeare, and–

“Millie, are you okay?”

“Is it stagefright?” Maud says quickly. She gulps, and adjusts her scabbard over her shoulder. “I think I’ve got that. Granny Mona is going to just laugh at my phrasing, I know it.”

“Millie?” Enid says, lowering her maglet serving as a Stage Manager clipboard.

Mildred swallows a lump in her throat. “Is it so weird that HB and my mum are friends?”

Enid and Maud blink at her.

“I mean, only because you said they didn’t get along before,” Enid says.

Maud furrows her brow. “Millie, what are you thinking about?”

“I…” Mildred goes to tug on her braid, but all of her hair is pinned up on her head. She feels each of those pins now. “Mum reads everything Cackle’s sends her and memorized the Witch’s Code and always listens to me but I think it’s still hard for her, that I’m here. It’s like I’m living at...Hogwarts, and one day I’ll come home for good. But I _am_ home, and I’m so worried we won’t be close because of it anymore. But last week she knew exactly what I was talking about when I mentioned the Strength Potion we were brewing...and…”

Enid blinks at her again, and Maud moves to put a concerned arm around her shoulder. Mildred just knows she’s crying a little bit, and showtime is in _a half hour_.

“I’m sorry, Millie,” Maud says, leaning in close. “It’s not that weird, really.”

Mildred nearly throws up her hands. “That didn’t even make sense.”

“It did make sense,” Enid says softly, and pulls a tissue paper out of nowhere. Mildred takes it with a grateful eye roll, and blows her nose. “We were wrong. Miss Hardbroom is Hagrid.”

Mildred laughs out an entire cry, and blows her nose again. “Okay, okay! Thank you, guys. You know, always.”

“We love you, Millie,” Maud says, conjuring up another tissue paper. “We’re gonna support you no matter what. Well, unless you want to release a bunch of spiders in the Great Hall. Might take issue there.”

“Ditto,” Enid says. “Though... _spiders._ That gives me an idea. How do you all feel about gummy spiders and April Fool’s Day?”

Maud sighs. “We did gummy worms last year. At _least_ , we should be original.”

Mildred laughs again and looks at her hand, now slightly covered in glitter. “Love you guys too. Let’s get back to the dressing rooms. I’ve got to fix my makeup, and I think Miss Bat wanted to do a vocal exercise?”

“Oh no,” Maud says. She’s right to say that. The last time they did vocal exercises, they were supposed to generate enough emotion in their voices to light an unstruck match, and all of those matches ended up in the grand piano, which was in reality, a repurposed chair and stayed a chair after the students almost destroyed it. Mister Rowan-Webb popped into town and popped back an hour later with an electric keyboard, and the rest was history.

Enid throws an arm around both of them, and Mildred looks out into the audience once again, eyes skimming over the heads of her classmates and parents and teachers to find Mum, Ordinary amongst the Magical in one of her shawls, saying goodbye to Miss Hardbroom once they find Miss Cackle in the third or fourth row. Miss Cackle waves at her and says something Mildred can’t hear at all and Mum waves at both of them before going to find her own seat, somewhere Mildred can’t see.

She takes a deep breath, and smiles too.

“Let’s break some legs!” she says, and lets Enid tug them towards the dressing room.

“I’d rather not,” Maud says, and looks a little green. “Oh, how many people are out there?”

Enid ducks her head back. “Eh, just a few. Pretend they’re all transmogrified into balloons with happy-faces drawn on.”

 _“Ha,”_ Maud says, glaring.

As they’re all lined up for the opening monologue (fully written by Miss Bat, with necessary edits from Mister Rowan-Webb) Ethel leans over and whispers, “You…”

Mildred rolls her her eyes. “Yes, Ethel?”

Ethel tries to glare, but her brow furrows until her expression is something very muddled and shadowed. “You won’t _mess up_ this time, will you?”

Mildred can’t think about it, so she gives what she hopes is a genuine smile. “Break a leg to you too, Ethel.”

Ethel frowns, a more contemplative frown than anything else, and keeps frowning until the curtain opens.

 

* * *

 

Well, Mildred does mess up a few lines. Luckily, the show _is_ a bit of a disaster.

Enid’s lighting designs are spectacular, but require far too much pyromagic and not enough people waiting with pails of water in case everything should go awry. Which it doesn’t, not totally, because the entire stage crew, plus a few of the faeries still off-stage, charm bubbles to disrupt the flames at opportune moments. The glossy bubbles and the different shades of fire create the desired effect to wow the audience, and manage to distract them from one, Sybil’s hair mildly on fire and two, Mildred forgetting an entire chunk of her monologue towards the end of Act One.

(Miss Cackle and Miss Hardbroom weren’t really clutching each other in fear the whole scene, were they? They were tricked too?)

Maud and Felicity manage to make the whole audience teary-eyed with their scenes, Ethel is as irritating as the Faerie Queen as she is in real life, and Mildred finds the irony that in the world onstage, she is the only one with magic, and it is beautiful and terrible and awe-inspiring. In the final scene, she uses her own magic to generate a small tornado–here she absolutely hears Miss Cackle gasp–and understands, quite suddenly, that her life is never going to be the same. She’s a Third Year Witch who is amazing at DDR and can draw a face that looks like a face and is passable at Potions, and she just created a tornado with her _bare hands_.

She grins into her last monologue as Prospero before the play valiantly tries to rear back into a historical retelling. Her tornado doesn’t unleash into the audience, (well...it _does_ slightly careen into the right side row, but Miss Drill, sitting close by, pushes it forward with a quick flourish and gives Mildred a thumbs up.), and maybe, one day, she won’t be the Worst Witch at Cackle's, maybe one day, this world will see her as a force to be reckoned with. A kind force. Someone who alters reality for the better. Someone _good._

 

* * *

 

The thought follow her until the cast files into the hallway, and Mum gives her a great, big hug. “Millie, you were just wonderful! Your Grandad would have said _top form_. He liked to think of himself as a Bardologist,” she says with an teary eye roll. She very rarely talks about Mildred’s grandad–they had a falling out before he passed away, Mum told her.

Mildred laughs, and hugs her back. “You’re my mum, you _have_ to say I’m good.”

Mum shakes her head, and pulls a bouquet of flowers from behind her back. “Voila! Some magic of my own. Admittedly, a little less impressive.”

Mildred inhales the fresh yellow roses–her favorite. “It’s perfect, mum,” she says, hugging her again. “Really, really perfect.”

“I’m not...entirely convinced there should be a ‘Second Opening,’ Ada,” a very familiar voice says. She turns around to find Miss Cackle and Miss Hardbroom a few feet away, Miss Cackle emphatically greeting students and parents as they pass and Miss Hardbroom looking as though she’d rather have _her_ hair set on fire.

“I’m certain Mister Rowan-Webb and the girls will figure out more efficient ways to successfully counter the more dangerous elements of the performance.”

Miss Cackle turns her head and looks at her. “Mildred! I had no idea you were such an excellent thespian! Well done, my dear.”

Mildred beams at the praise. “Thanks a ton, Miss Cackle.”

Miss Cackle and Mum look expectantly at Miss Hardbroom, and she clears her throat several times before speaking. “What scenes which held an...understandable plot, you certainly added to their clarity.”

Mildred beams again. “Thanks, Miss Hardbroom. For letting us put on the play.”

Miss Hardbroom blinks several times, and seems to war with her own face before settling on a quick nod and even quicker smile. Miss Cackle beams at her.

Mum laughs. “I _saw_ you clapping along during the _Dance of the Faerie Queen_ along with all the rest of us rowdy theater-goers, HB.”

Miss Hardbroom looks like she’s trying not to sputter. “It would have been rude not to clap at that time.”

Miss Cackle grins and pats Miss Hardbroom’s back. “There, there, Hecate. Perhaps you’ll direct the next show, hmm? I fondly remember the play you all put on for my birthday last year.”

Miss Hardbroom stands a bit taller, if that were possible, and gives an HB smile. “If I _did_ have the time to put on a full production about Witching history, I would be certain that it actually _contained_ accurate Witching history.”

“Or you could tackle Shakespeare. How about the Scottish Play?” Mum says, adjusting her shawl again. She grins at HB. “I’m sure the Cackle’s version could easily beat out any West End rendition. You’ve got the real thing.”

Miss Hardbroom glares at her, but Mildred can tell it’s different from her real glares. There’s no warning at all. _“Miss_ Hubble–”

“Julie,” Mum says, brow raised. Mildred tries not to gape a little bit.

“Millie!” It’s Maud, beaming and surrounded by flowers and her parents and grandmother. She grabs onto Mildred’s arms and they jump up and down.“We did it! A whole play! ”

“An entire play! All by ourselves!”

“And no one _died!”_

Miss Cackle claps her hands, and HB looks like she just swallowed a handful of dust. Mildred and Maud stop jumping. “Er, hello, Miss Hardbroom! Well met.”

HB slowly raises a hand to her head, and inclines it. “Well...met, Maud Spellbody.”

“Maud! You did wonderfully!” Mum grins and gives two thumbs up. “And you’re absolutely right, an Opening Night without anyone dying is _indeed_ a success.” She turns to HB. “Wouldn’t you say, Miss Hardbroom?”

HB sighs. “It is indeed not a failure.”

Maud beams. “Thank you so much, Miss Hubble!”

“Mildred Hubble!” Granny Mona says, and clasps one of her hands. She grins maniacally and Mildred gulps. “It is good to see you, my dear! Your monologuing pacing was simply superperb! I must say, I don’t quite remember a few of those lines–”

“Oh, mum, leave her be!” Mrs. Spellbody says, and reaches into a bouquet for a single rose seems to swirl like a galaxy–no, wait, it _is_ a swirling galaxy! With stars and everything! Wicked! “Here you are! Enid already has hers. I do hope I have enough for all of you.”

“Thanks, Mrs. S!” Mildred says.

 _“Ada!”_ Granny Mona says and releases her. She runs over to Miss Cackle and they hug and happily laugh. “Oh, Ada, well met! It’s been far too long since–”

 _“Millie!”_ cries Enid, and crashes into her with a hug. “My parents _loved_ it! They’re going to use the bubble idea for their own show! Can you _believe_ it?” Her stage manager headphones are still around her neck and Mildred laughs just like Miss Cackle and Granny Mona did. Cackle’s just wouldn’t be Cackle’s without her friends.

She frowns, suddenly. She wonders if the Hallows are here tonight. She turns her head to survey the crowd, but can’t parcel out one family from another. Ethel may have been an annoying Faerie Queen ( _and_ a terrible person,) but she was also very good and deserved to have someone in the audience clapping for her. At the very least.

Esme is here, right?

The Nightshades transfer by them and it’s all hugs and flowers again, Mr. Nightshade complimenting Maud on her iambic pentameter and Mrs. Nightshade complimenting Mildred on her improvisation and not having it when Mildred gets sheepish–improvisation is a very important skill for any learning Witch or Wizard! She makes herself forget about Ethel and Felicity comes over to join them, followed by a few other of her castmates, and Miss Bat suddenly transfers in to let them know about an added song to the Third Act and transfers away before anyone could argue with her, and Miss Drill comes around to compliment the Faeries on their flying techniques. Mildred thanks her for the tornado help and, remembering her old school plays in Ordinary School, suggests they all go out for celebratory pizza, maybe? As they discuss restaurant options, Mildred looks around for Mum and finds her across the hallway, talking to Miss Hardbroom.

She tries to squeeze past Felicity’s family in order to get toward them and hears Mum say:

“Saturday, then. Bring your best running shoes.” Mum frowns.  Running boots?”

Miss Hardbroom raises a brow. “A Witch does not run.”

“She does when being chased by make-believe zombies,” Mum says in a mock whisper.

“I am _not_ trying that inane...Application.”

“We’ll see, won’t we,” Mum says, and sighs. “Or we’ll just...walk in the park with our coffee and argue about how best to cure chicken pox.”

Felicity realizes Mildred is right behind her and introduces her to her aunts. Mildred politely introduces herself with a very graceful _Well met,_ and is relieved when Mr. Spellbody interrupts the whole group with a WitchNet search of good pizza places nearby.

Mum and Miss Hardbroom are still talking and she carefully inches another foot forward, just like the library all over again. Neither notice her.

Miss Hardbroom’s chin is raised, but she's  _smiling_ _._  Well, HB smiling. “There’s a reason why Necromancy is strictly forbidden by the Code. Dead arguments _remain_ dead arguments, Miss Hubble.”

 _“Julie,”_ Mum says again. “And I’ll loan you a thermos for your _tea.”_

“I have no need for one.”

(They’re spending time together! Not across the mirrors, but in _person!_ On a Saturday! HB reads HP and Mum loans her thermoses!)

(Mildred tries not to gape, but it’s really impossible.)

Mum rolls her eyes, fondly. _Fondly?_ “A thermos is like magic without having to waste any on a heating spell.”

(Mum is talking, really talking about magic!)

HB abruptly turns her head and looks at her right in the eye. “Hello, Mildred.”

Mildred winces.

Mum startles. “Millie! What’s up? I see you’ve got a lot of fans over there.”

“I, uh.” She takes the last few steps forward and decides to pretend that she hadn’t heard anything. Hopefully HB only just noticed her. “We wanted to go out for pizza, actually! Is that okay?”

Mum puts her hands on her hips. “What’s an Opening Night without pizza, huh?”

Mildred looks concernedly up at HB. After all, it _is_ a school night. “I promise that we’ll all be back before curfew, Miss Hardbroom. And we’ve got plenty of parent chaperones.”

HB purses her lips. “I assume this means that your Potions homework is done?”

Mildred smiles. She finally has an answer that makes her proud. “I did it over the weekend. I knew that Tech Week wouldn’t give me very much time.” She doesn’t mention the night she furiously messaged Maud well passed bedtime curfew about a Potions equation.

HB raises her brows. “A…wise decision,” she says.

Mildred grins.

HB nods, once. “I suppose those are acceptable terms.” She looks at Mum again. “See that they  _are_ back at the Castle before nine.”

Mum nods. “I’ll let Miss Cackle know where we go.”

“Would you like some pizza, Miss Hardbroom? We can bring back an extra one for the teachers. You know, as a thank you for the play.”

“As the person who will be _paying_ for that extra pizza,” Mum says, wrapping an arm around Mildred. “I agree.”

HB is oddly startled for a moment before she smoothes the expression away. She crosses her arms. “I...I am certain that the staff would be most appreciative, but that’s certainly not necessary.” She nods again, and lifts her arms in formation. “Goodnight, Hubbles.”

“Hold on, what–”

Hb transfers away.

Mum sighs, and they start to walk back to the group. “I suppose she wouldn’t be _HB_ anymore if she didn’t do that every single time.”

Mildred blinks, and stops. “Mum. I..think I take it back. It is a little weird.”

Mum stares and then laughs when she realizes what Mildred means. “It _is_ a little weird, isn’t it?” She looks at Mildred again, concerned. “Is it too weird, sweetheart?”

She thinks about the tornado spinning around and around the stage and she thinks about Enid making the stage sparkle with fire and she thinks about one fateful day three years ago when an impossible girl crash landed into her balcony and took her to the impossible castle in the mountains, and she met the most impossible people she ever will meet. She thinks about going home and her own room feeling completely strange in its Ordinariness, and thinks about her drafty room at Cackle’s, Tabby curled on her pillow.

She wants to be the very best Witch she can be, and doesn’t want to lose any of herself in the process. If her teachers think she's truly improving even with all her mishaps, maybe that's possible. If Mum and HB can be _friends,_ maybe that’s possible.

She squeezes Mum’s hand. “Just weird enough, I think.”


End file.
